UC-NRLF 


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UNIVERSfllV 
CALi-DRNlifi 


EMILY  L.  TURNER 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 


Emily  L.   Turner 


@  -.=z^„-  -@ 

SOME    OF 

DAYTON  &  WENTWOKTH'S 


LIFE  AMONG  THE  FLOWERS. 

BY    LAUKA    G-BEENWOOD. 

This  whole  work  forms  a  delightful  Gift  Book  for  any  and  all  seasons 
of  the  year,  particularly  when  God's  choice  and  beautiful  ornaments 
adorn  our  land,  and  fill  the  air  with  their  fragrance. 

The  writers  of  our  own  country  are  well  represented,  and  in  the  lan- 
guage of  another,  "whoever  'Laura  Greenwood '  may  be,  she  has  the 
taste  and  skill  of  an  accomplished  editor." 

As  such,  "  we  cheerfully  recommend  the  '  Life  among  the  Flowers  '  to 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  who  has  a  taste  for  the  good  and  beau- 
tiful." The  work  is  printed  in  bold,  clear  type,  on  the  first  quality  of 
paper,  and  bound  in  a  superior  manner.     12mo.,  272  pages. 

DAYTON  &   WENT  WORTH,  Publishers, 

86  Washington  Street^  Boston. 


HAPPY  HOURS  AT  HAZEL  NOOK. 

BY    HARRIET    FARLEY, 

This  work  contains  twelve  exquisite  tales,  related  by  a  family  circle, 
containing  wisdom  for  the  old,  amusement  for  the  young,  and  thoughts 
for  the  middle-aged.  Embellished  with  fourteen  superb" illustrations  by 
the  best  artists  in  America ;  and  to  make  this  the  gift  book  of  the  sea- 
son, we  have  colored  the  engravings  in  the  beautiful  and  natural  style 
introduced  with  such  unprecedented  success  in  our  historical  works. 
Bound  in  elegant  muslin,  12mo.,  full  gilt  or  plain. 

DAYTON  &   WENTWORTH,  Publishers, 

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LOVE  EACH  OTHER, 

OR    STRIVE    TO    BE    GOOD. 

STORIES  DESIGNED  TO  AOVAINCE  THE  YOUNG  IN  VIRTUE  &  MORAilTV, 

BY    MRS.    lilVINGSTON. 

This  book,  as  its  title  imports,  is  designed  for  the  instruction  of  Youth, 
and  we  cannot  recommend  a  more  welcome  present  than  this  for  the 
young  folks.  The  book  is  extensively  illustrated,  and  elegantly  bound. 
Price  only  25  cents.        DAYTON  &  WENTWORTH,  Publishers, 

86  Washington  Street,  Boston. 


Co) 


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ANGEL  WHISPERS, 

OR   THE    ECHO    OF    SPIRIT   VOICES. 

BY    BEV.   D.   C.   EDDY. 

**  The  public  have  long  felt  the  need  of  some  specific  book,  which 
treats  upon  specific  cases  of  affliction,  to  put  into  the  hands  of  those 
whose  friends  have  been  taken  from  them  by  death.  The  present  work 
is  therefore  gathered  from  a  number  of  addresses  made  on  funeral  occa- 
sions, taking  away  the  pulpit  style,  and  interspersing  them  with  appeals 
to  the  heart  and  conscience  of  the  reader." 

DAYTON  &  WENTWORTH,  Publisher3, 

86  Washington  Street,  Boston. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  COUNSELLOR, 

OR   JEWELS    FOR    THE    HOUSEHOLD. 

This  is  a  work  of  condensed  thought  and  striking  anecdote  —  a  work 
of  sound  maxims  and  truthful  apothegms.  It  will  impress  on  the  mind 
a  thousand  valuable  suggestions,  and  teach  your  children  a  thousand 
lessons  of  truth.  Such  a  book  is  a  casket  of  Jewels  for  your  household. 
The  work  contains  448  octavo  pages,  handsomely  illustrated  with  40 
appropriate  engravings,  prinjted  with  new  type  on  fine  paper. 

Agents  can  have  constant  employment  by  circulating  this  important 
work.  DAYTON  &  WENTWORTH,  Publishers, 

86  Washington  Street,  Boston. 


FLEETWOOD'S 

LIFE  OP  OUR  LORD  AND   SAVIOR 

JESUS  CHRIST. 

Containing  a  full  and  accurate  History  from  his  taking  upon  himself  our 
Nature  to  his  Crucifixion,  Resurrectio^i,  aiid  Ascension,  together  with 
the  Lives,  Tratuactlons,  a7id  Sufferings  of  his  Holy  Evangelists,  Apos- 
tles, and  other  primitive  Martyrs.  To  which  is  added  a  complete 
History  of  the  Jeics. 

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imitation  Turkey  Red  Morocco  binding,  containing  660  pages,  with  nu- 
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ing with  the  doctors. 

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DAUGHTERS  OF  THE  CROSS, 

OR   WOMAN'S   MISSION. 

BY  DANIEL  C.  EDDY. 
The  object  of  this  work  is  to  give  a  series  of  brief  memoirs  of  the  lives 
of  the  most  prominent  females  in  the  Christian  canse,  who  deserve  more 
honor  than  the  fallen  warrior  or*  the  titled  senator  —  such  as  Harriet 
Newell,  Ann  H.  Judson,  Elizabeth  Hervey,  Harriet  B.  Stewart,  Sarah 
L.  Smith,  Eleanor  Macomber,  Sarah  D.  Comstock,  Henrietta  Shuck, 
Sarah  B.  Judson,  Annie  P.  James,  Mary  E.  Van  Lennep. 

DAYTON  &  WENT  WORTH,  Publishers, 

86  Washington  Street,  Boston. 


■■© 


THE  YOUNG  MAN'S  FRIEND. 

BY    DANIEL    C.    EDDY. 

This  work  has  passed  through  fifty  editions,  and  has  had  a  very  ex- 
tensive sale.  It  has  received  universal  commendation  from  the  press, 
as  may  be  seen  by  the  following  notices  :  — 

"  Tlie  writer  lias  elevated  views  of  life  and  duty,  pood  taste,  and  that  stir  and 
energy  of  style  which  takes  hold  of  the  sympathies  of  young  men."  —  JVew  York 
Evangelist, 

"  The  work  reflects  credit  on  its  author,  and  is  rightly  named."  —  Watchman 
and  Rejlector. 

"The  style  of  the  book  is  vigorous,  and  its  lessons  well  studied." — Zion's 
Herald. 

"  An  earnest  word  from  an  earnest  man." —  Concord  Democrat. 

"  The  author  is  one  who  has  well  read  the  human  heart,  who  is  well  versed  in 
the  temptations  of  the  young,  and  who  has  a  lively  sympathy  for  the  class  whom 
he  seeks  to  benefit."  —  Independent. 

DAYTON  &  WENTWORTH,  Publishers, 

86  Washingt07i  Street,  Boston. 


THE    OASIS, 

OR   GOLDEN   LEAVES   OF   FRIENDSHIP. 

BY    N.    L.    FERaUSON. 
This  book  commends  itself  to  the  consideration  of  those  who  do  them- 
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in  exchanging  presentations,  felicitations,  and  congratulations. 

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paper,  and  bound  in  rich  muslin,  full  gilt,  at  an  exceedingly  low  price. 
12mo.,  272  pages.       DAYTON  &  WENTWORTH,  Publishers, 

86  Washington  Street,  Boston. 


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THE    CLOVEN   FOOT. 

This  is  a  book  of  400  pages,  designed  to  expose  the  Roman  Catholic 
conspiracy  against  the  government  of  the  United  States,  By  a  Protes- 
tant Clergyman. 

The  talent  and  research  displayed  on  every  page  of  this  work,  together 
■with  the  Startling  Facts  which  it  relates,  will  place  it  far  in  advance  of 
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last  six  months.  1000  Native  American  Agents  wanted  to  sell  this 
work.        Address  DAYTON  &  WENTWORTH,  Publishers, 

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HISTORY    OF 

DEMOCRACY  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

By  the  Author  of  "  The  Keptiblic  of  the  IJnited  States,"  &e. 

This  important  work  is  now  in  press,  the  first  volume  of  which  will 
be  issued  early  in  the  year  of  1856. 

Letter  ■  in  respect  to  the  character  and  objects  of  this  work  have  been  received 
from  tlie  late  Judge  Woodlmry,  lion.  Goor^e  M.  Dallas,  Hon.  James  Buchanan, 
Hon.  William  L.  Marcy,  Hon.  Robert  J.  VVaikcr,  Hon.  Panuie!  Houston,  Hon. 
Isaac  Toticcy,  Hon.  JeliVr^on  D.tvi.-:,  Hon.  Tliomas  H.  Ss-yinnur,  Hon.  R.  J.  Inger- 
soM,  Hon.  Edinu«d  13urke,  Hon.  15.  F.  Hallott,  Hon.  Lewis  (;as>,  Hon.  Thomas  W. 


Dorr,  etc. 


DAYTON  &  WENTWORTH,  Publishers, 

86  Washington  Street,  Boston^ 


A    NEVr   PICTOEIAL 

HISTORY  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

BY    JOHN    FROST. 

We  hesitate  not  to  say  that  this  is  the  best  Pictorial  History  of  the 
United  States  to  be  found  in  the  Ande  world. 

This  work  is  copiously  illustrated  with  over  600  engravings  from  origi- 
nal designs,  containing  over  1000  pages,  printed  on  the  first  quality  of 
paper,  with  bold,  clear  type,  and  bound  in  leather  binding,  with  spring 
back  and  heavy  sides,  in  the  most  durable  manner. 

The  book  should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  family  in  the  United  States, 
especially  of  our  adopted  citizens,  from  the  shores  of  the  Pacific,  on  the 
West,  to  that  of  the  extreme  Atlantic,  on  the  East.  No  man  or  woman 
who  wishes  to  become  acquainted  with  our  institutions,  —  Character, 
Rise,  Progress,  and  Commerce  of  our  adopted  country,  —  will  fail  to 
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country.    Address  the  Publishers,  DAYTON  &  WENTWORTH, 

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THE    NEW  WORLD. 

This  magnificent  work  is  sold  only  by  agents,  and  wholly  by  subscrip- 
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circulate  it. 

"  [t  is  truly  nstonishingr  the  extent  and  perfection  to  which  the  art  of  book 
making  has  been  carried  of  late.  The  greatest  book  thai  has  yet  been  published 
is  now  issued  by  our  friends  Dayton  &  Wentworth,  and  tliey  truly  deserve  the 
name  of  public  benefactors,  for  their  enterprise  and  skill  in  producing  a  triumph 
of  American  art  and  genius.  We  think  tliit*  truly  great  work  destined  to  outlive 
all  its  feebler  contemporaries  in  the  field  of  literature,  and  iro  down  to  posterity 
stamped  with  the  genius  of  our  age.  The  illustrations  are  in  reality  gorgeous 
and  superb  paintings.''^  —  Oazelie. 

Address  DAYTON  &  WENTWORTH,  Publishers, 

86  Wu^hington  Street,  Boston. 

@  =- ^  -© 


w 


,♦••"•  '^ 


Sclilesirg^er  Piirsi 


0.0  F'l  /R.R^J@lf^©   iFl^Q)W[E^S 


©. 


THE 


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llttral  Wteat|; 


LIFE  AMONG  THE  FLOWERS, 

* 

EDITED    BY 

LAURA    GREENWOOD. 


*'  I  have  made  a  nosegay  of  culled  flowers,  and  have  brought  nothing  of 
my  own  but  the  thread  that  ties  them." 

Reminiscences  of  Genius. 


@= 


BOSTON: 
DAYTON    AND     WENTWORTH, 

86  WASHINGTON   STREET. 
1855. 


^@ 


@  @ 


EIntered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1853,  by 

NATHANIEL  L.   DAYTON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


GIFT 


8TEHE0TTFSD   AT  THX 
BOSTON     STSBEOTTrB     F  O  tT  K  D  B  T  . 


@  •© 


@-  '        —  @ 


INTRODUCTION 


In  adding  one  to  the  many  works  -on  flowers, 
that  have,  from  time  to  time,  been  offered  to  the 
public,  we  make  no  apology.  We  believe  that 
each,  in  its  turn,  has  ministered  to  the  widely- 
spread  and  still  increasing  taste  for  those  most 
beautiful  creations  of  the  Divine  Goodness,  which 
every  where  surround  us,  with  such  forcible,  though 
voiceless,  appeals  to  our  notice  and  love.  We 
trust  that  this  may  be  the  gentle  mission  of  our 
unpretending  work. 

The  selections  of  prose,  we  think,  may  be  an 
acceptable  addition  to  many  readers,  while  they 
are  not  wholly  inappropriate,  as  they  inculcate 
the  practice  of  a  portion  of  the  floral  sentiments^ 
and  illustrate  their  beauty  when  carried  into  the 
every-day  duties  of  real  life. 
@  (o) 

476 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

"We  have  endeavored  to  make  the  work  which  we 
present  to  you  unexceptionable  in  taste  £^nd  morals. 
We  cannot  claim  for  it  the  merit  of  entire  origi- 
nality, either  in  language  or  dress ;  but  we  believe 
that,  to  those  who  accept  its  society  to  diversify 
the  monotony  of  a  long  winter  evening  —  to  be- 
guile the  languid  hours  of  a  summer  day  —  or  to 
cheer  the  tedious  convalescence  of  illness  —  its 
counsels  and  companionship  will  be  found  most 
soothing  and  sweet. 

L.  G. 


© :::===© 


©  .  '  @ 


CONTENTS. 


POETRY. 

Flowers.                                                     Interpretation.  Page 

Acacia,  Rose Elegance 11 

Alyssum,  Sweet "Worth  beyond  Beauty 12 

Almond,  Flowering Hope 13 

Aloe Grief 14 

Amaranth Immortality 15 

Anemone Forsaken 16 

Arbor  VitjE Unchanging  Affection 17 

Aspen  Tree Excessive  Sensibility 18 

Auricula,  Scarlet Pride 19 

Bachelor's  Button Celibacy 23 

Balm Sympathy 24 

Balsomine Impatience 25 

Basil Hatred  of  the  other  Sex 26 

Bay  Wreath Glory 27 

Bay  Leaf. I  change  but  in  dying 28 

Bell  Flower Constancy 29 

Bayberry Sourness,  or  Sharpness 30 

Bindweed Humility 31 

Box Stoicism..... 32 

Bramble Weariness 33 

Buttercup — Kingcup Riches 43 


@: 


CONTENTS. 


Catclifly Artifice,  or  a  Snare 44 

Camomile Energy  in  Adversity 45 

Carnation Disdain 46 

Cedar  Tree Strength 47 

Cherry  Blossom Spiritual  Beauty 48 

Clematis Mental  Beauty 49 

Cinquefoil The  Dead 50 

Cowslip Native  Grace •  51 

Coreopsis Always  cheerful 52 

Crocus I  am  his 53 

Crown  Imperial Aristocracy 54 

Cypress Disappointed  Hopes 55 

Daisy Innocence 66 

Dandelion Coquetry 67 

Eglantine,  or  Sweetbrier Poetry 68 

Everlasting Always  remembered 69 

Evergreen Poverty  and  "Worth 70 

Fir Time 71 

Flax Domestic  Industry 72 

Flower  of  an  Hour Delicate  Beauty 73 

Flower-de-Luce I  am  bxuming  with  Love 74 

Flowering  Reed Confidence  in  Heaven 75 

Forget-Me-Not True  Love 76 

Foxglove Ambition 77 

Geranium Gentility 94 

Geranium,  Dark ^  Despondency 95 

Geranium,  Rose Preference 96 

Geranium,  Scarlet Consolation 97 

Geranium,  Silver-leafed Recall 98 


@= 


.© 


CONTENTS. 


Hawthorn Hope « 103 

Hellebore Caliimny 104 

Heliotrope Devotion 105 

Hibiscus Short-lived  Beauty 106 

Honeysuckle Fidelity 107 

Honeysuckle,  Wild Inconstancy 108 

Hydrangea Heartlessness 109 

Ice  Plant Frigidity 115 

Ivy Friendship 116 

Jasmine Amiability 117 

Japonica Excellence 118 

Jonquil Is  my  Affection  returned 119 

Laburnum Pensiveness 128 

Ladies'  Delight Forget  me  not 129 

Ladies'  Slipper Capriciousness 130 

Larkspur Fickleness 131 

Laurel Fame 132 

Lavender Acknowledgment 133 

Lilac First  Emotions  of  Love 134 

Lily  of  the  Valley Unnoticed  Affection 135 

Lily,  White Purity  and  Modesty 136 

Locust Affection  beyond  the  Grave 137 

Lotus Estrangement 138 

Love  in  a  Mist Perplexity 139 

Love  Lies  Bleeding Hopeless,  not  Heartless 140 

Mignonette Moral  Worth 151 

Mimosa Sensitiveness 152 

Mistletoe Not  discouraged 153 

Moss Maternal  Affection 154 

Mulberry  Tree Wisdom j....  155 

Myrtle Love  in  Absence 156 

©  © 


©  @ 

8  CONTENTS. 

Narcissus Egotism,  or  Self-love 157 

Nasturtium Patriotism 158 

Nightshade Dark  Thoughts 159 

Oleander "Warning,  or  Beware 164 

Olive Peace 165 

Orange  Blossom Woman's  Worth 166 

Oxeye Patience 167 

Pea,  Everlasting Wilt  thou  go 177 

Pea,  Sweet Departxu-e 178 

Periwinkle Early  Friendship 179 

Petunia Elegance  without  Pride 180 

Phlox Our  Souls  are  united 181 

Pink,  China Aversion 182 

Pink,  Red Woman's  Love 183 

Pink,  White Fair  and  fascinating 184 

Poppy,  Red. Evanescence 185 

Poppy,  White Oblivion  in  Sleep 186 

Primrose Modest  Worth 187 

Primrose,  Evening Inconstancy 188 

Rose,  Burgundy Simplicity 193 

Rose,  Bridal Happy  Love 194 

Rose,  Carolina Love  is  dangerous 195 

Rose,  Multiflora Grace 196 

Rose,  Versicolor Mirthfulness 197 

Rose,  Musk Charming 198 

Rose,  Moss Superior  Merit 199 

Rosebud,  Moss Confession  of  Love 200 

Rosebud,  White Too  young  to  love...... 201 

Rose,  Yellow We  will  be  Strangers 202 

Rosemary Affectionate  Remembrance 203 

Saffron Mamage 218 

@-  @ 


@  @ 

CONTENTS.  9 

Snapdragon Dazzling,  but  dangerous 219 

Snowdrop Hope  in  Sorrow 220 

Snowball Thoughts  of  Heaven 221 

Star  of  Bethlehem Reconciliation 222 

Sweet  William Hollo^\Tiess,  or  Treachery 233 

Syringa Memory 234 

Tansy Courage 235 

Thistle Never  forget 236 

Tulip,  Red Declaration  of  Love 237 

TuHp Beautiful  Eyes 238 

Venus's  Looking  Glass Flattery,  or  Vanity 243 

Violet,  Blue Faithfulness 244 

Violet,  ^Vhite Modesty 245 

Water  Lily Eloquence 246 

Wall  Flower Fidelity  in  Misfortune 247 

Walnut,  Black Intellect 256 

Weeping  Willow Forsaken  Lover 257 

Woodbine Fraternal  Love 258 


Yarrow Cure  for  the  Heartache 

Yew Sorrow 


—  © 

10  CONTENTS. 


PROSE. 

Page 

Musings  on  Flowers 20 

The  Poetry  of  Flowers 34 

Early  Times t 56 

The  Lady  Pilgrim 78 

Life  is  sweet 99 

A  New  Year's  Colloquy  with  Time 110 

The  Broken  Heart 120 

My  Fortune's  made 141 

Live  not  to  yourself 160 

The  Listener 168 

Influence  of  an  Elder  Sister 189 

The  Coral  Pving 204 

My  Cousin 223 

The  Charities  that  sweeten  Life 239 

The  Evening  before  Marriage 248 

The  Honeymoon * 262 


©= 


@  -  @ 


LIFE  AMONG 

THE    FLOWERS. 


ACACIA,   ROSE. 

Robinia  Hispida. 

Language  —ELEGANCE. 


It  is  worth  much,  in  this  dull  world  of  strife 
And  foolish  vanity,  to  meet  a  heart 
Serene  and  beautiful  like  thine  ! 
Thou,  with  a  lofty  purpose  in  thy  breast, 
Retain'st  thy  elevation  o'er  the  herd 
No  less  by  that  calm  majesty  of  soul 
Which  shrinks  from  adulation,  than  by  gifts 
Of  lofty  intellect  and  outward  grace. 
Thy  form  hath  elegance  that  indicates 
The  beautiful  refinement  of  thy  thoughts ; 
And  there  is  dignity  in  thy  firm  step 
That  speaks  a  soul  superior  to  the  thrall 
Of  petty  vanity  and  low-born  pride. 


==@ 


@  @ 

12  WORTH   BEYOND    BEAUTY. 


ALYSSUM,  SWEET. 

Alyssum  Maritimum. 

Language  — WORTH  BEYOND  BEAUTY. 

She  who  thinks  a  noble  heart 

Better  than  a  noble  mien, — 
Honors  virtue  more  than  art, 

Though  'tis  less  in  fashion  seen,  — 
Whatsoe'er  her  fortune  be, 
She's  the  bride  —  the  wife  —  for  me. 

She  who  deems  that  inward  grace 
Far  surpasses  outward  show,  — 

She  who  values  less  the  face 

Than  the  charms  the  soul  can  throw,  — 

Whatsoe'er  her  fortune  be. 

She's  the  bride  —  the  wife  —  for  me. 

She  who  knows  the  heart  requires 
Something  more  than  lips  of  dew,  — 

That  when  love's  brief  rose  expires, 
Love  itself  dies  with  it  too,  — 

Whatsoe'er  her  fortune  be, 

She's  the  bride  —  the  wife  —  for  me. 

Chaeles  Swaiit. 


@  © 


@ —         @ 

HOPE.  13 


ALMOND.  FLOTORING. 

Amygddus, 

Language  —  HOPE. 

The  hope,  in  dreams  of  a  happier  hour, 

That  ah'ghts  on  misery's  brow, 
Springs  out  of  the  silvery  almond  flower 

That  blooms  on  a  leafless  bough. 

MOOBB. 

Fear  not,  beloved  !  though  clouds  may  lower, 

Whilst  rainbow  visions  melt  away, 
Faith's  holy  star  has  still  a  power 

That  may  the  deepest  midnight  sway. 
Fear  not !  I  take  a  prophet's  tone  : 

Our  love  can  neither  wane  nor  set ; 
My  heart  grows  strong  in  trust :  mine  own, 

We  shall  be  happy  yet. 

What  though  long,  anxious  years  have  passed 

Since  this  true  heart  was  vowed  to  thine. 
There  comes,  for  us,  a  light  at  last. 

Whose  beam  upon  our  path  shall  shine. 
We  who  have  loved  'midst  doubts  and  fears. 

Yet  never  with  one  hour's  regret. 
There  comes  a  joy  to  gild  our  tears  : 

We  shall  be  happy  yet ! 

Mbs.  James  Gbat 

Come,  then,  O  care !  0  grief !  O  woe  ! 

O  troubles  !  mighty  in  your  kind ; 
X  have  a  balm  ye  ne'er  can  know  — 

A  hopeful  mind. 

F.  Vajtb. 


(5)  — @- 

14  GRIEF. 


ALOE. 


Aloe. 

Languagk  —  GRIEF. 

"  Azim  is  dead  I " 
O  grief  beyond  all  other  griefs,  when  fate 
.   First  leaves  the  young  heart  lone  and  desolate 
In  the  wide  world,  without  that  only  tie 
For  which  it  loved  to  live,  or  feared  to  die  — 
Lorn  as  the  hung-up  lute,  that  ne'er  hath  spoken. 
Since  the  sad  day  its  master-chord  was  broken ! 

MOOBE'S  IiALLA  Kookh. 

Thou  art  lost  to  me  forever  —  I  have  lost  thee,  Isadore. 
Thy  head  will  never  rest  upon  my  loyal  bosom  more. 
Thy  tender  eyes  will  never  more  gaze  fondly  into  mine. 
Nor  thine  arms  around  me  lovingly  and  trustingly  intwine. 

Thou  art  dead  and  gone,  my  loving  wife ;  thy  heart  is 

still  and  cold ; 
And  I  at  one  stride  have  become  most  comfortless  and  old  : 
Of  our  whole  world  of  love  and  song,  thou  wast  the  only 

light  — 
A  star,  whose  setting  left  behind,  ah  me !  how  dark  a  night ! 
Thou  art  lost  to  me  forever,  Isadore. 

Albeet  Pike. 

I  need  not  say  how,  one  by  one. 

Love's  flowers  have  dropped  from  off  love's  chain ; 
Enough  to  say  that  they  are  gone. 

And  that  tjiey  cannot  bloom  again. 

Miss  Laitdoit. 


^ 


^ 


IMMORTALITY. 


15 


AMARANTH. 
Amaranthus. 

I  Language  —  IMMORTALITY. 

♦■ 

With  solemn  adoration  down  they  cast 

Their  crowns,  inwove  with  amaranth  and  gold  ; 

Immortal  amaranth,  a  flower  which  once 

In  paradise,  fast  by  the  tree  of  life, 

Began  to  bloom ;  but  soon,  for  man's  offence. 

To  heaven  removed ;  where  first  it  grew,  there  grows, 

And  flowers  aloft,  shading  the  tree  of  life. 

MlLTOIT. 

O,  listen,  man ! 
A  voice  within  us  speaks  that  startling  word  — 
"  Man,  thou  shalt  never  die !  "     Celestial  voices 
Hymn  it  unto  our  souls  ;  according  harps. 
By  angel  fingers  touched,  when  the  mild  stars 
Of  morning  sang  together,  sound  forth  still 
The  song  of  one  great  immortality. 

Dana. 

Love,  which  proclaims  thee  human,  bids  thee  know 
A  truth  more  lofty  in  thy  lowliest  hour 
Than  shallow  glory  taught  to  human  power  — 
"  What's  human  is  immortal !  " 


@~- 


=@ 


@  -         © 

16  FORSAKEN. 


ANEMONE. 

Anemmie, 

Language  — FORSAKEN.     . 

Alas  !  the  love  of  women  !  it  is  known 
To  be  a  lovely  and  a  fearful  thing  ; 
For  all  of  theirs  upon  that  die  is  thrown, 
And  if  'tis  lost,  life  has  no  more  to  bring 
To  them  but  mockeries  of  the  past  alone. 

Byrox. 

I  did  love  once,  — 
Loved  as  youth,  woman,  genius  loves  ;  though  now 
My  heart  is  chilled,  and  seared,  and  taught  to  wear 
That  falsest  of  false  things  —  a  mask  of  smiles. 

Miss  LANDOIf. 

They  parted  as  all  lovers  part  — 

She  with  her  wronged  and  breaking  heart ; 
But  he,  rejoicing  to  be  free, 

Bounds  like  a  captive  from  his  chain, 
And  wilfully  believing  she 

Hath  found  her  liberty  again  ; 
Or  if  dark  thoughts  will  cross  his  mind. 

They  are  but  clouds  before  the  wind. 

Miss  Landon. 

Gro,  deceiver,  go ! 

Some  day,  perhaps,  thou'lt  waken 
From  pleasure's  dream  to  know 

The  grief  of  hearts  forsaken ! 

°  MOOEE. 


UNCHANGING   AFFECTION.  17 


ARBOR  VIM. 

Thuja, 

Language  —  UNCHANGING   AFFECTION. 

Believe  me,  if  all  those  endearing  young  charms, 

Which  I  gaze  on  so  fondly  to-day, 
Were  to  change  by  to-morrow,  and  melt  in  my  arms, 

Like  fairy  gifts  fading  away, 
Thou  wouldst  still  be  adored,  as  this  moment  thou  art, 

Let  thy  loveliness  fade  as  it  will, 
And  around  the  dear  ruin  each  wish  of  my  heart 

Would  intwine  itself  verdantly  still ! 
It  is  not  while  beauty  and  youth  are  thine  own, 

And  thy  cheeks  unprofaned  by  a  tear, 
That  the  fervor  and  faith  of  a  soul  can  be  known. 

To  which  time  will  but  make  thee  more  dear. 
0,  the  heart  which  has  truly  loved  never  forgets. 

But  as  truly  loves  on  to  the  close 
As  the  sunflower  turns  to  her  god,  when  she  sets. 

The  same  look  which  she  turned  when  he  rose. 

MOOEB. 

Within  her  heart  was  his  image. 

Clothed  in  the  beauty  of  love  and  youth,  as  last 

She  beheld  him. 
Only  more  beautiful  made  by  his  deathlike 

Silence  and  absence. 

LONOFEllOW'S  EVANGELIITE. 


4 


@  @i 

18  EXCESSIVE     SENSIBILITY. 


ASPEN  TREE. 

Populus   Tremulus. 

Language  —  EXCESSIVE   SENSIBILITY. 

Why  tremble  so,  broad  aspen  tree  ? 
Why  shake  thy  leaves,  ne'er  ceasing  ? 
At  rest  thou  never  seem'st  to  be, 

For  when  the  air  is  still  and  clear, 
Or  when  the  nipping  gale,  increasing, 
Shades  from  thy  boughs  soft  twilight's  tear, 
Thou  tremblest  still,  broad  aspen  tree, 

And  never  tranquil  seem'st  to  be. 

Anow. 

Yet  what  is  wit,  and  what  the  poet's  art  ? 
Can  genius  shield  the  vulnerable  heart  ? 
Ah,  no !  Where  bright  imagination  reigns. 
The  fine-wrought  spirit  feels  acuter  pains  ; 
Where  glow  exalted  sense,  and  taste  refined. 
There  keener  anguish  rankles  in  the  mind  ; 
There  feeling  is  diffused  through  every  part, 
Thrills  in  each  nerve,  and  lives  in  all  the  heart ; 
And  those  whose  generous  souls  each  tear  would  keep 
From  other's  eyes  are  born  themselves  to  weep. 

*  HANNAn  More. 

Though  time  thy  bloom  is  stealing. 

There's  still  beyond  his  art 
The  wild-flower  wreath  of  feeling, 

The  sunbeam  of  the  heart. 

Halleck. 


@  @ 

PRIDE.  19 


AURICULA,  SCARLET. 

Primula    Auricula. 

Language  —PRIDE. 

From  her  lone  path  she  never  turns  aside, 

Though  passionate  worshippers  before  her  fall ; 

Like  some  pure  planet,  in  her  lonely  pride, 
She  seems  to  soar  and  beam  above  them  all. 

Mks.  Welby. 

It  is  not  well  amid  thy  race  to  move. 

And  shut  thy  heart  to  sympathy  and  love  ; 

It  is  not  well  to  scorn  inferior  minds, 

And  pass  them  by  as  though  they  were  but  hinds. 

Pride  may  become  thee,  as  the  veil  a  nun  ; 

But,  ah  !  they  love  thee  not  whom  thou  dost  shun  ; 

And  days  may  come  to  thee  when  human  love 

Thou  wilt  desire  all  earthly  things  above  ; 

And  thou  wilt  mourn  that  in  thy  days  of  pride 

Thou  didst  not  win  some  true  hearts  to  thy  side  ; 

Wilt  mourn  that,  now  thy  rank  and  wealth  have  flown, 

Thou'rt  left  to  suffer  and  to  die  alone  ! 

Akoit. 

I'll  offer  and  I'll  suffer  no  abuse, 
Because  I'm  proud :  pride  is  of  mighty  use ; 
The  affectation  of  a  pompous  name 
Has  oft  set  wits  and  heroes  in  a  flame : 
Volumes  and  buildings,  and  dominions  wide, 
Are  oft  the  noble  monuments  of  pride. 

Cbown's  Caligula.  J 


<§) 


20  MUSINGS    ON    FLOWERS. 


MUSINGS  ON  FLOWERS. 

Flowers,  of  all  created  things  the  most  inno- 
cently simple,  and  most  superbly  complex ;  play- 
things for  childhood,  ornaments  of  the  grave,  and 
companions  of  the  cold  corpse !  —  flowers,  beloved 
by  the  wandering  idiot,  and  studied  by  the  deep 
thinking  man  of  science !  —  flowers,  that,  of  perish- 
ing things,  are  the  most  heavenly!  —  flowers,  that 
unceasingly  expand  to  heaven  their  grateful,  and 
to  man  their  cheerful,  looks ;  partners  of  human 
joy ;  soothers  of  human  sorrow ;  fit  emblems  of 
the  victor's  triumphs,  of  the  young  bride's  blushes ; 
welcome  to  the  crowded  halls,  and  graceful  upon 
solitary  graves  I  —  flow^ers  are  in  the  volume  of 
nature  what  the  expression  "  God  is  love  "  is  in  the 
volume  of  the  revelation.  What  a  desolate  place 
would  be  a  world  w^ithout  a  flower !  It  w^ould  be 
a  face  without  a  smile  —  a  feast  without  a  wel- 
come. Are  not  flowers  the  stars  of  the  earth,  and 
are  not  our  stars  the  flowers  of  heaven  ?  One 
cannot  look  closely  at  the  structure  of  a  flower 
without  loving  it.  They  are  emblems  and  mani- 
festations of  God's  love  to  the  creation,  and  ihey 
are  the  means  and  ministrations  of  man's  love  to 
his  fellow-creatures  ;  for  they  first  awaken  in  his 
mind  a  sense  of  the  beautiful  and  good.  Their 
growth  is  always  over  their  grave;  the  spot  of 
their  bloom  is  so  quickly  the  sepulchre  of  their 
beauty ! 

@ 


^@ 


MUSINGS    ON    FLOWERS.  21 

The  lady  who  has  been  absent  during  the  fare- 
well month  of  summer  may  return  to  the  scene 
of  her  laughs  and  joys,  and  find  the  street,  the 
house,  the  chamber,  the  same ;  the  circle  of 
friends  unbroken  by  a  death  or  a  sorrow ;  no 
trace,  in  the  teeming  life  around  her,  of  time's 
changes.  But  that  evidence  will  meet  the  eye  in 
the  flower  garden.  The  w^eeds  that  have  thick- 
ened in  the  alley  have  choked  the  choicest  flower. 
The  moss  tufts  have  withered  with  the  heat  of 
August.  The  lily  waves  its  graceful  leaf  faintly 
over  its  fellows.  The  dahlia,  which  her  "  sweet 
and  cunning  hand "  had  reared,  and  cherished 
with  affection,  has  fallen  beneath  the  deep  shades 
of  the  growing  vine  that  has  frowned  away  its  life 
and  its  radiant  colors.  The  place  is  more  changed 
than  any  other.  It  is  beautiful  but  for  its  treasured 
memories  —  still  beautiful,  though  clothed  in  the 
drooping  fall  robes  of  the  year ;  but  clear  it  is,  that 

"  Time's  effacing  fingers 
Have  swept  the  lines  where  beauty  lingers." 

Here^  then,  where  delicate  taste  directed  the  cul- 
ture in  May ;  where  soft  hands  caressed  the  June 
rosebud,  and  brushed  away  the  early  dew ;  a  sooth- 
ing picture  of  melancholy  rises  in  the  view.  The 
maiden  laugh  is  suppressed.  But  why  should  it 
be  ?     What  though 

"  The  shadows  of  departed  hours 
Hang  dim  upon  her  early  flowers  !  " 


^ 


22  MUSINGS    ON   FLOWERS. 

They^  in  their  day,  smiled  and  blossomed  ;  and 
so  should  she,  who  represents  the  delicacy  of  the 
flowers,  the  modesty  of  its  unfolding  petals,  its 
bloom,  and  its  purity. 

Flowers  contain  the  language  and  sentiments 
of  the  heart,  thus  :  The  fair  lily  is  an  image  of 
holy  innocence ;  the  purple  rose  a  figure  of  unfelt 
love ;  faith  is  represented  to  us  in  the  blue  passion 
flower ;  hope  beams  forth  from  the  evergreen ; 
peace  from  the  olive  branch ;  immortality  from 
immortelle  ;  the  cares  of  life  are  represented  by 
the  rosemary ;  the  victory  of  the  spirit  by  the 
palm ;  modesty  by  the  blue,  fragrant  violet ;  com- 
passion by  the  ivy  ;  tenderness  by  the  myrtle ;  af- 
fectionate reminiscence  by  the  forget-me-not ; 
natural  honesty  and  fidelity  by  the  oak  leaf;  un- 
assumingness  by  the  corn  flower;  and  the  auric- 
ula, "  how  friendly  they  look  upon  us  with  their 
childlike  eyes  ! "  Even  the  dispositions  of  the  hu- 
man soul  are  expressed  by  flowers.  Thus  silent 
grief  is  portrayed  by  the  weeping  willow  ;  sadness 
by  the  angelica  ;  shuddering  by  the  aspen  ;•  mel- 
ancholy by  the  cypress  ;  desire  of  meeting  again 
by  the  starwort ;  the  night  rocket  is  a  figure  of 
life,  as  it  stands  on  the  frontier  between  light  and 
darkness.  Thus  Nature,  by  these  flowers,  seems 
to  betoken  her  loving  sympathy  with  us ;  and 
whom  hath  she  not  often  more  consoled  than 
heartless  and  voiceless  men  are  able  to  do  ? 

Anox. 

^-  (o) 


=  @ 

CELIBACY.  23 


BACHELOR'S  BUTTON. 

Lychnis  Dwecia. 

Language  —  CELIBACY. 

Alone,  alone,  all,  all  alone ! 
Alone  on  a  wide,  wide  sea  ! 

A  bachelor 
May  thrive  by  observation  on  a  little ; 
A  single  life's  no  burden  ;  but  to  draw 
In  yokes  is  chargeable,  and  will  require 
A  double  maintenance. 

JOHK  FOKD. 

What !  I  love  !  I  sue  !  I  seek  a  wife  ! 
A  woman  that  is  like  a  German  clock, 
Still  a-repairing ;  ever  out  of  frame, 
And  never  going  aright,  being  a  watch. 
But  being  watched  that  it  may  still  go  right. 

Shasspbabs. 

How  uneasy  is  his  life 

Who  is  troubled  with  a  wife  ! 

Be  she  ne'er  so  fair  or  comely, 

Be  she  foul  or  be  she  homely, 

Be  she  blithe  or  melancholy, 

Have  she  wit  or  have  she  folly, 

Be  she  prudent,  be  she  squandering. 

Be  she  staid  or  be  she  wandering. 

Yet  uneasy  is  his  life 

Who  is  married  to  a  wife.  "* 


■-© 


© 

24  SYMPATHY. 


BALM. 

Melissa. 

Language  —  SYMPATHY. 

Hast  tliou  one  heart  that  loves  thee, 
In  this  dark  world  of  care, 

Whose  gentle  smile  approves  thee  ? 
Yield  not  to  dark  despair ! 

One  rose,  whose  fragrant  blossom 
Blooms  but  for  thee  alone  — 

One  fond,  confiding  bosom, 

Whose  thoughts  are  all  thine  own  ? 

One  tuneful  voice  to  cheer  thee. 
When  sorrow  has  distressed  — 

One  breast  when  thou  art  weary, 
Whereon  thy  head  to  rest  ?  — 

Till  that  sweet  rose  is  faded. 
And  cold  that  heart  so  warm. 

Till  clouds  thy  star  have  shaded, 
Heed  not  the  passing  storm. 

Till  the  kind  voice  that  blessed  thee 
All  mute  in  death  doth  lie. 

And  the  fount  that  oft  refreshed  thee 
To  thee  is  ever  dry,  — 

Thou  hast  one  tie  to  bind  thee 
To  this  dark  world  of  care  ; 
^Then  let  no  sorrow  blind  thee  — 
Yield  not  to  dark  despair. 


©  ^ 

IMPATIENCE.  25 


BALSOMINE. 

Impatiens. 

Language  —IMPATIENCE. 

I  CANNOT,  will  not  longer  brook    ' 

Thy  cold  delay,  thy  prudent  look. 

Dost  love  me  ?     Share  at  once  my  fate, 

Be  it  bright  or  desolate ! 

I  will  abide  no  half-way  love. 

Nor  wait  for  prudence  ere  I  move  : 

One  more  repulse,  and  I  depart ! 

Come,  now  or  never,  to  my  heart. 

AXOIT. 

Life  of  my  life,  at  once  my  fate  decree  ; 
I  wait  my  death,  or  more  than  life,  from  thee ! 
I  have  no  arts  nor  powers  thy  soul  to  move, 
But  doting  constancy  and  boundless  love  ; 
This  is  my  all :  had  I  the  world  to  give, 
Thine  were  its  throne ;  now  bid  me  die  or  live. 

Ckabde. 

0,  how  impatience  gains  upon  the  soul. 

When  the  long-promised  hour  of  joy  draws  near ! 

How  slow  the  tardy  moments  seem  to  roll ! 

Mrs.  Tigiie. 


@    ~  = 

26  HATRED    OF   THE    OTHER    SEX. 


BASIL. 

Ocinum  BasHicum. 

Language  — HATRED    OF  THE   OTHER  SEX. 

*    Clara  was  told,  if  past  a  certain  age, 
Her  lovely  spirit  left  this  mortal  stage  ; 

-  .  (An  adage  known  full  well ;) 
She  must,  as  all  yclept  old  maidens  must, 
Below  this  ball  of  mud,  and  rocks,  and  dust, 

Lead  frightful  apes  in  hell ! 
She  said,  if  such  must  be  her  future  lot. 
Resigned,  she  would  not  mourn  a  single  jot ; 
She'd  rather  lead  a  thousand  down  below, 
Than  one  should  lead  her  now  / 

J.  w.  H. 

Marry !  no,  faith  ;  husbands  are  like  lots  in 
The  lottery  —  you  may  draw  forty  blanks, 
Before  you  find  one  that  has  any  prize 
In  him ;  a  husband  generally  is  a 
Careless,  domineering  thing,  that  grows  like 
Coral ;  which  as  long  as  it  is  under  water 
Is  soft  and  tender  ;  but  as  soon 
As  it  has  got  its  branch  above  the  waves 
Is  presently  hard,  stiff,  not  to  be  bowed. 

Mabston. 

A  wife  !  O  fetters 
To  man's  blessed  liberty !  all  this  world 's  a  prison. 
Heaven  the  high  wall  about  it,  sin  the  jailer ; 
But  th'  iron  shackles,  weighing  down  our  heels, 
Are  only  women. 


(2)= 


GLORY. 


^ 


27 


BAY   WREATH. 
Laurus  Carolinensis. 


Language  —  GLORY. 


What  is  glory  ?     What  is  fame  ? 
The  echo  of  a  long-lost  name  ; 
A  breath,  an  idle  hour's  brief  talk  ; 
The  shadow  of  an  arrant  nought ; 
A  flower  that  blossoms  for  a  day, 

Dying  next  morrow  ; 
A  stream  that  hurries  on  its  way, 

Singing  of  sorrow. 


MOTHEKWELL. 


And  glory  long  has  made  the  sages  smile ; 

'Tis  something,  nothing,  words,  illusion,  wind  — 
Depending  more  upon  the  historian's  style 

Than  on  the  name  a  person  leaves  behind. 

Byeon. 

Real  glory 
Springs  from  the  silent  conquest  of  ourselves  ; 
And  without  that  the  conqueror  is  nouglit 
But  the  first  slave. 


Fame  !    Fame  !  thou  canst  not  be  the  stay 

Unto  the  drooping  reed, 
The  cool,  fresh  fountain,  in  the  day 

Of  the  soul's  feverish  need  : 
Where  must  the  lone  one  turn  or  flee  ? 


Not  unto  thee,  O,  not  to  thee ! 


Mrs.  Hemans. 


^ 


@  = 

28  I    CHANGE    BUT    IN    DYING. 


BAY   LEAF. 

Laurus, 

Language  — I   CHANGE  BUT  IN  DYING. 

In  bower  and  garden  rich  and  rare 

There's  many  a  cherished  flower, 
JVhose  beauty  fades,  whose  fragrance  dies 

Within  the  flitting  hour. 
Not  so  the  simple  forest  leaf. 

Unprized,  unnoticed,  lying : 
The  same  through  all  its  little  life, 

It  changes  but  in  dying. 

Be  such,  and  only  such,  my  friends ; 

Once  mine,  and  mine  forever ; 
And  here's  a  hand  to  clasp  in  theirs, 

That  shall  desert  them  never. 
And  thou  be  such,  my  gentle  love. 

Time,  chance,  the  world  defying ; 
And  take  —  'tis  all  I  have  —  a  heart 

That  changes  but  in  dying. 


G.  W.  DOANK. 


Farewell !  there's  but  one  pang  in  death. 
One  only  —  leaving  thee  ! 


@ -® 


©^ 


CONSTANCY. 


:© 


29 


BELL  FLOWER. 


Campanula. 


Language  —  CONSTANCY. 


Say,  shall  I  love  the  fading  beauty  less, 

Whose  spring-tide  radiance  has  been  wholly  mine  ? 

No  —  come  what  will,  thy  steadfast  truth  I'll  bless  ; 
In  youth,  in  age,  thine  own  —  forever  thine. 

A.  A.  Watts. 

Then  come  the  wild  weather,  come  sleet,  or  come  snow. 

We  will  stand  by  each  other  however  it  blow. 
Oppression,  and  sickness,  and  sorrow,  and  pain 

Shall  be  to  our  true  love  as  links  to  the  chain. 

LOXOFKLLOHT. 

0,  think  not  less  I  love  thee, 

That  our  paths  are  parted  now  ; 
For  the  stars  that  burn  above  thee 

Are  not  truer  than  my  vow ; 
As  the  fragrance  from  the  blossom, 

As  the  moon  unto  the  night. 
Our  love  is  to  my  bosom  — 

Its  loveliness  and  light. 

O,  think  not  less  I  love  thee. 

That  thy  hand  I  thus  resign  ; 
In  the  heaven  that  bends  above  thee 

I  will  claim  thee  yet  as  mine. 
Through  the  vision  of  life's  morning 

Ever  flitted  one  like  thee  ; 
And  thou,  life's  lapse  adorning, 

Shalt  hence  that  vision  be. 

W.  D.  Gallagher. 


=© 


30  SOURNESS,  OR  SHARPNESS. 


BAYBERRY. 

Myrica  Cerifera. 

Language  — SOURNESS,   OR   SHARPNESS. 

Now  Fate  preserve  thee,  lady  fair  ! 

I  will  not  breathe  the  Frenchman's  prayer, 

Who,  to  the  maiden's  great  alarm. 

Exclaimed,  "  God  pickle  you,  madame  ! " 

But  "  Fate  preserve  thee  ! "  —  even  as  they, 

Our  housewives  notable,  allay, 

With  sugared  sweets,  an  acid  juice, 

And  store  it  up  for  future  use  : 

So  "  Fate  preserve  thee"  or  thou'lt  stay 

Unplucked  upon  the  parent  tree  ;  — 

Unless  thy  sharpness  be  effaced, 

Thou'rt  far  too  sour  to  suit  my  taste. 

Mrs.  F.  S.  Osgood. 

He  reads  much ; 
He  is  a  great  observer,  and  he  looks 
Quite  through  the  deeds  of  men  ;  he  loves  no  plays 
As  thou  dost,  Antony ;  he  hears  no  music ; 
Seldom  he  smiles  ;  and  smiles  in  such  a  sort. 
As  if  he  mocked  himself,  and  scorned  his  spirit, 
That  could  be  moved  to  smile  at  any  thing. 

Shakspeabe. 

Since  both  of  you  so  like  in  manners  be, 

Thou  the  worst  husband,  and  the  worst  wife  she, 

I  wonder  you  no  better  should  agree. 


Sheebouhnb. 


(O): 


@  @ 

HUMILITY.  31 


BINDWEED. 

Convolvulus  Arvensis. 

Language  —  HUMILITY. 

The  bird  that  soars  on  highest  wing 

Builds  on  the  ground  her  lowly  nest ; 
And  she  that  doth  most  sweetly  sing 

Sings  in  the  shade  when  all  things  rest : 
In  lark  and  nightingale  we  see 
What  honor  hath  humility. 

When  Mary  chose  the  "  better  part," 

She  meekly  sat  at  Jesus'  feet ; 
And  Lydia's  gently-opened  heart 
Was  made  for  God's  own  temple  meet : 
Fairest  and  best  adorned  is  she 
Whose  emblem  is  humility. 

The  saint  that  wears  heaven's  brightest  crown 

In  deepest  adoration  bends  ; 
The  weight  of  glory  bends  him  down 
The  most  when  most  his  soul  ascends : 
Nearest  the  throne  itself  must  be 
The  footstool  of  humility. 

MOXXOOMERT. 

Here  is  a  precious  jewel  I  have  found 
Among  the  filth  and  rubbish  of  the  world. 
I'll  stoop  for  it,  but  when  I  wear  it  here. 
Set  on  my  forehead  like  the  morning  star. 
The  world  may  wonder,  but  it  will  not  laugh. 

LOJTGrELLOW. 

@ 


=©! 


32  STOICISM. 


BOX. 

Buxus. 

Language  —  STOICISM. 

I  ne'er  will  weep  again ! 
I  will  meet  fate  with  an  unblencliing  eye  ; 
For  better  far  in  proud  contempt  to  die 

Than  idly  talk  of  pain. 

Can  I  not  bear  all  things  ? 
Who  talks  of  weakness  to  a  soul  like  mine  ? 
Love,  hope,  pity,  sorrow,  I  resign. 

And  all  that  fortune  brings. 

In  lonely  strength  I  stand, 
Unmoved  though  earthquakes  open  at  my  feet ; 
Though  storms  of  malice  on  my  bosom  beat, 

I  can  their  rage  withstand. 

Ajtox. 

My  sole  resources  in  the  path  I  trod 

Were    these  —  my  bark  —  my  sword  —  my  love 

my  God. 
The  last  I  left  in  youth  :  he  leaves  me  now  ; 
And  man  but  works  his  will  to  lay  mc  low. 
I  have  no  thought  to  mock  his  throne  with  prayer 
Wrung  from  the  coward  crouching  of  despair ; 
It  is  enough  —  I  breathe  —  and  I  can  bear. 

BvKOir. 


@  @ 


WEARINESS.  33 


BRAMBLE. 

Language  —  WEARINESS. 

O  FOR  thy  wings,  thou  dove, 
Now  sailing  by  with  sunshine  on  thy  breast ! 

That,  borne  like  thee  above, 
I  too  might  flee  away,  and  be  at  rest. 

O,  to  some  cool  recess. 
Take,  take  me  with  thee  on  the  summer  wind  ; 

Leaving  the  weariness 
And  all  the  fever  of  this  world  behind. 

The  aching  and  the  void 
Within  the  heart  whereunto  none  reply,  — 

The  early  hopes  destroyed, 
Bird,  bear  me  with  thee  through  the  sunny  sky. 

Mbs.  Hsuans. 

Art  thou  a  weary  soul,  and  dost  thon  cry 
For  rest  ?     Wait,  and  thou  soon  shalt  have 
That  thou  dost  crave. 
For  death  is  real  —  the  GRAVE  no  mockery. 


=© 


34  THE   POETRY    OF   FLOWERS. 


THE  POETRY  OF  FLOWERS. 

There  are  few  natural  objects  more  poetical  in 
their  general  associations  than  flowers ;  nor  has 
there  ever  been  a  poet,  simple  or  sublime,  who  has 
not  adorned  his  verse  with  these  specimens  of  na- 
ture's cunning  workmanship.  From  the  majestic 
sunflower,  towering  above  her  sisters  of  the  gar- 
den, and  faithfully  turning  to  welcome  the  god  of 
day,  to  the  little  humble  and  well-known  weed 
that  is  said  to  close  its  crimson  eye  before  impend- 
ing showers,  there  is  scarcely  one  flower  which 
may  not,  from  its  loveliness,  its  perfume,  its  natural 
situation,  or  its  classical  association,  be  considered 
highly  poetical. 

As  the  welcome  messenger  of  spring,  the  snow- 
drop claims  our  first  regard  ;  and  countless  are  the 
lays  in  which  the  praises  of  this  little  modest 
flower  are  sung.  The  contrast  it  presents  of  green 
and  white  (ever  the  most  pleasing  of  contrasts  to 
the  human  eye)  may  be  one  reason  why  mankind 
agree  in  their  admiration  of  its  simple  beauties; 
but  a  far  more  powerful  reason  is  the  delightful 
association  by  which  it  is  connected  with  the  idea 
of  returning  spring ;  the  conviction  that  the  vege- 
table world  through  the  tedious  winter  months  has 
not  been  dead,  but  sleeping ;  and  that  long  nights, 
fearful  storms,  and  chilling  blasts  have  a  limita- 
tion and  a  bound  assigned  them,  and  must  in  their 

@ 


--© 


i 

© 


THE   POETRY    OF   FLOWERS.,  35 

appointed  tirae  give  place  to  the  fructifying  and 
genial  influence  of  spring.  Perhaps  we  have  mur- 
mured (for  what  is  there  in  the  ordinations  of 
Providence  at  which  man  will  not  dare  to  mur- 
mur?) at  the  dreariness  of  winter.  Perhaps  we 
have  felt  the  rough  blast  too  piercing  to  accord 
with  our  artificial  habits.  Perhaps  we  have 
thought  long  of  the  melting  of  the  snow  that  im- 
peded our  noonday  walk.  But  it  vanishes  at 
last;  and  there,  beneath  its  white  coverlet,  lies  the 
delicate  snowdrop,  so  pure  and  pale,  so  true  an 
emblem  of  hope,  and  trust,  and  confidence,  that  it 
might  teach  a  lesson  to  the  desponding,  and  show 
the  useless  and  inactive  how  invaluable  are  the 
stirrings  of  that  energy  that  can  work  out  its  pur- 
pose in  secret,  and  under  oppression,  and  be  ready 
in  the  fulness  of  time  to  make  that  purpose  mani- 
fest and  complete.  The  snowdrop  teaches  also 
another  lesson.  It  marks  out  the  progress  of  time. 
We  cannot  behold  it  without  feeling  that  another 
spring  has  come,  and  immediately  our  thoughts 
recur  to  the  events  which  have  occurred  since  last 
its  fairy  bells  were  expanded.  We  think  of  those 
who  were  near  and  dear  to  us  then.  It  is  possible 
they  may  never  be  near  again  ;  it  is  equally  possi- 
ble they  may  be  dear  no  longer.  Memory  is  busy 
with  the  past;  until  anticipation  takes  up  the 
chain  of  thought,  and  we  conjure  up,  and  at  last 
shape  out  in  characters  of  hope,  a  long  succession 
of  chances   and   changes  to  fill  up  the  revolving 


©^ 


36  ,  THE    POETRY    OF    FLOWERS. 

seasons  which  must  come  and  go  before  that  little 
flower  shall  burst  forth  in  its  loveliness  again. 
Happy  is  it  for  those  who  have  so  counted  the 
cost  of  the  coming  year,  that  they  shall  not  find  at 
the  end  they  have  expended  either  hope  or  desire 
in  fruitless  speculations. 

It  is  of  little  consequence  what  flower  comes 
next  under  consideration.  A  few  specimens  will 
serve  the  purpose  of  proving  that  these  lovely  pro- 
ductions of  nature  are,  in  their  general  associa- 
tions, highly  poetical.  The  primrose  is  one  upon 
which  we  dwell  with  pleasure  proportioned  to  our 
taste  for  rural  scenery,  and  the  estimate  we  have 
previously  formed  of  the  advantages  of  a  peaceful 
and  secluded  life.  In  connection  with  this  flower, 
imagination  pictures  a  thatched  cottage  standing 
on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  and  a  little  woody  dell, 
whose  green  banks  are  spangled  all  over  with  yel- 
low stars,  while  a  troop  of  rosy  children  are  gam- 
bolling on  the  same  bank,  gathering  the  flowers,  as 
we  used  to  gather  them  ourselves,  before  the  toils 
and  struggles  of  mortal  conflict  had  worn  us  down 
to  what  we  are  now ;  and  thus  presenting  to  the 
mind  the  combined  ideas  of  natural  enjoyment, 
innocence,  and  rural  peace  —  the  more  vivid,  be- 
cause we  can  remember  the  time  when  some- 
thing like  this  was  mingled  with  the  cup  of  which 
we  drank  —  the  more  touching,  because  we  doubt 
whether,  if  such  pure  drops  were  still  there,  they 
would  not  to  our  taste  have  lost  their  sweetness. 


©= 


THE    POETRY    OF   FLOWERS.  37 

The  violet,  while  it  pleases  by  its  modest,  retir- 
ing beauty,  possesses  the  additioiral  charm  of  the 
most  exquisite  of  all  perfumes,  which,  inhaled 
with  the  pure  and  invigorating  breezes  of  spring, 
always  brings  back  in  remembrance  a  lively  con- 
ception of  that  delightful  season.  Thus,  in  the 
language  of  poetry,  "  the  violet-scented  gale "  is 
synonymous  with  those  accumulated  and  sweetly- 
blended  gi'atifications  which  we  derive  from  odors, 
flowers,  and  balmy  breezes  ;  and  above  all,  from 
the  contemplation  of  renovated  nature,  once  more 
bursting  forth  into  beauty  and  perfection. 

The  jessamine,  also,  with  its  dark-green  leaves, 
and  little  silver  stars,  saluting  us  with  its  delicious 
scent  through  the  open  casement,  and  impregnat- 
ing the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  garden  with  its 
sweetness,  has  been  sung  and  celebrated  by  so 
many  poets,  that  our  associations  are  with  their 
numbers,  rather  than  with  any  intrinsic  quality  in 
the  flower  itself.  Indeed,  whatever  may  have  first 
established  the  rank  of  flowers  in  the  poetical 
world,  they  have  become  to  us  like  notes  of  music, 
passed  on  from  lyre  to  lyre ;  and  whenever  a  chord 
is  thrilled  with  the  harmony  of  song,  these  lovely 
images  present  themselves,  neither  impaired  in 
their  beauty,  nor  exhausted  of  their  sweetness,  for 
having  been  the  medium  of  poetic  feeling  ever 
since  the  world  began. 

It  is  impossible  to  expend  a  moment's  thought 
upon  the  lily,  without  recurring  to  that  memorable 

=-  — =@ 


38  THE    POETRY    OF   FLOWERS. 

passage  in  the  sacred  volume  — "  Consider  the 
lilies  of  the  field,  how  they  grow.  They  toil  not, 
neither  do  they  spin ;  and  yet  I  say  unto  you, 
that  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not  arrayed  like 
one  of  these."  From  the  little  common  flower 
called  heart's  ease,  we  turn  to  that  well-known 
passage  of  Shakspeare,  where  the  fairy  king  so 
beautifully  describes  the  "little  western  flower." 
And  the  forget-me-not  has  a  thousand  associa- 
tions tender  and  touching ;  but  unfortunately,  like 
many  other  sweet  things,  rude  hands  have  almost 
robbed  it  of  its  charm.  Who  can  behold  the  pale 
narcissus,  standing  by  the  silent  brook,  its  stately 
form  reflected  in  the  glassy  mirror,  without  losing 
themselves  in  that  most  fanciful  of  all  poetical 
conceptions,  in  which  the  graceful  youth  is  de- 
scribed as  gazing  upon  his  own  beauty,  until  he 
becomes  lost  in  admiration,  and  finally  enamoured 
of  himself?  while  hopeless  Echo  sighs  herself  away 
into  a  sound,  for  the  love,  which,  having  centred  in 
such  an  object,  was  never  to  be  bought  by  her 
caresses,  nor  won  by  her  despair. 

Through  gardens,  fields,  forests,  and  even  over 
rugged  mountains,  we  might  wander  on  in  this 
fanciful  quest  after  remote  ideas  of  pleasurable 
sensation  connected  with  present  beauty  and  en- 
joyment ;  nor  would  our  search  be  fruitless  so  long 
as  the  bosom  of  the  earth  afforded  a  receptacle  for 
the  germinating  seed,  so  long  as  the  gentle  gales 
of  summer  continued  to  waft  them  from  the  parent 

@  <2) 


THE    POETRY    OF    FLOWERS.  39     [ 

stem,  or  so  long  as  the  welcome  sun  looked  forth 
upon  the  ever-blooming  garden  of  nature. 

One  instance  more,  and  we  have  done.  The 
"  lady  rose,"  as  poets  have  designated  this  queen 
of  beauty,  claims  the  latest,  though  not  the  least 
consideration  in  speaking  of  the  poetry  of  flowers. 
In  the  poetic  world,  the  first  honors  have  been 
awarded  to  the  rose ;  for  what  reason  it  is  not  easy 
to  define,  unless  from  its  exquisite  combination 
of  perfume,  form,  and  color,  which  have  entitled 
this  sovereign  of  flowers  in  one  country  to  be 
mated  with  the  nightingale  in  another,  to  be 
chosen  with  the  distinction  of  red  and  white,  as 
the  badge  of  two  honorable  and  royal  houses.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  trace  the  supremacy  of  the 
rose  to  its  origin  ;  but  mankind  have  so  generally 
agreed  in  paying  homage  to  her  charms,  that  our 
associations  in  the  present  day  are  chiefly  with  the 
poetic  strains  in  which  they  are  celebrated.  The 
beauty  of  the  rose  is  exhibited  under  so  many  dif- 
ferent forms,  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  say 
which  had  the  greatest  claim  upon  the  regard  of 
the  poet ;  but  certainly  those  kinds  which  have 
been  recently  introduced,  or  those  which  are  reared 
by  unnatural  means,  with  care  and  difficulty,  are 
to  us  the  least  poetical,  because  our  associations 
with  them  are  comparatively  few,  and  those  few 
relate  chiefly  to  garden  culture. 

There  is  one  circumstance  connected  with  the 
rose,  which  renders  it  a  more  true   and  striking 


©  @ 

40  THE    POETRY    OP    FLOWERS. 

emblem  of  earthly  pleasure  than  any  other  flower : 
it  bears  a  thorn.  While  its  odorous  breath  is  float- 
ing on  the  summer  gale,  and  its  blushing  cheek, 
half  hid  amongst  the  sheltering  leaves,  seems  to 
woo  and  yet  shrink  from  the  beholder's  gaze, 
touch  but  with  adventurous  hand  the  garden 
queen,  and  you  are  pierced  with  her  protecting 
thorns  :  would  you  pluck  the  rose,  and  weave  it 
into  a  garland  for  the  brow  you  love  best,  that 
brow  will  be  wounded:  or  place  the  sweet  blos- 
som in  your  bosom,  the  thorn  will  be  there.  This 
real  or  ideal  mingling  of  pain  and  sorrow  with 
the  exquisite  beauty  of  the  rose  aflbrds  a  never- 
ending  theme  to  those  who  are  best  acquainted 
with  the  inevitable  blending  of  clouds  and  sun- 
shine, hope  and  fear,  weal  and  woe,  in  this  our 
earthly  inheritance. 

With  every  thing  fair,  or  sweet,  or  exquisite  in 
this  world,  it  has  seemed  meet  to  that  wisdom 
which  appoints  our  sorrows,  and  sets  a  bound  to 
our  enjoyments,  to  affix  some  stain,  some  bitter- 
ness, or  some  alloy,  which  may  not  inaptly  be 
called,  in  figurative  language,  a  thorn.  St.  Paul 
emphatically  speaks  of  a  "  thorn  in  the  flesh  ; "  and 
from  this  expression,  as  well  as  from  his  earnest- 
ness in  having  prayed  thrice  that  it  might  be  re- 
moved, we  conclude' it  must  have  been  something 
particularly  galling  to  the  natural  man.  W^e  hear 
of  the  thorn  of  ingratitude,  the  thorn  of  envy,  the 
thorn  of  unrequited   love  —  indeed,  of  thorns   as 

@  -— — @ 


— @ 

THE    POETRY    OF    FLOWERS.  41 


numerous  as  our  pleasures ;  and  few  there  are  who 
can  look  back  upon  the  experience  of  life  w^ithout 
acknowledging  that  every  earthly  good  they  have 
desired,  pursued,  or  attained,  has  had  its  peculiar 
thorn.  Who  has  ever  cast  himself  into  the  lap  of 
luxury  without  finding  that  his  couch  was  strewed 
with  thorns  ?  Who  has  reached  the  summit  of  his 
ambition  without  feeling,  on  that  exalted  pinnacle, 
that  he  stood  on  thorns?  Who  has  placed  the 
diadem  upon  his  brow  without  perceiving  that 
thorns  were  thickly  set  within  the  royal  circlet? 
Who  has  folded  to  his  bosom  all  that  he  desired 
of  earth's  treasures  without  feeling  that  bosom 
pierced  with  thorns  ?  All  that  we  enjoy  in  this 
world,  or  yearn  to  possess,  has  this  accompani- 
ment. The  more  intense  the  enjoyment,  the 
sharper  the  thorn  ;  and  those  who  have  described 
most  feelingly  the  inner  workings  of  the  human 
heart,  have  unfailingly  touched  upon  this  fact  with 
the  melancholy  sadness  of  truth. 

Far  be  it  from  one,  who  would  not  willingly  fall 
under  the  stigma  of  ingratitude,  to  disparage  the 
nature  or  the  number  of  earthly  pleasures  —  pleas- 
ures which  are  spread  before  us  without  price  or 
limitation,  in  our  daily  walk,  and  in  our  nightly 
rest  —  pleasures  which  lie  scattered  around  our 
path  when  we  go  forth  upon  the  hills  or  wander 
in  the  valley,  when  we  look  up  to  the  starry  sky 
or  down  to  the  fruitful  earth  —  pleasures  which 
unite  the  human  family  in  one  bond  of  fellowship, 

!@  -         — ^ 


©-- 


42  THE    POETRY    OF    FLOWERS. 

surround  us  at  our  board,  cheer  us  at  our  fireside, 
smooth  the  couch  on  which  we  slumber,  and  even 
follow  our  wandering  steps  long,  long  after  we 
have  ceased  to  regard  them  with  gratitude  or  joy. 
I  speak  of  the  thorn  which  accompanies  these 
pleasures  not  with  murmuring  or  complaint;  I 
speak  of  the' wounds  inflicted  by  this  thorn  with 
a  living  consciousness  of  their  poignancy  and 
anguish ;  because  exquisite  and  dear  as  mere 
earthly  pleasures  may  sometimes  be,  I  would  still 
contrast  them  with  such  as  are  not  earthly.  I 
would  contrast  the  thorn  and  the  wound,  the  dis- 
appointment and  the  pain,  which  accompany  all 
such  pleasures  as  are  merely  temporal,  with  the 
fulness  of  happiness,  the  peace,  and  the  crown, 
accompanying  those  which  are  eternal. 

Mes.  Ellis. 


They  smilingly  fulfil 

Their  Maker's  will, 
All  meekly  bending  'neath  the  tempest's  weight; 

By  pride  unvisited, 

Though  richly  raimented, 
As  is  a  monarch  in  his  robes  of  state. 


(§). 


@ 

RICHES.  43 


BUTTERCUP -KINGCUP. 

Ranunculus  acris. 

Language  —  RICHES. 

To  purchase  heaven  has  gold  the  power  ? 
Can  gold  remove  the  mortal  hour? 
In  life  can  love  be  bought  with  gold  ? 
Are  friendship's  pleasures  to  be  sold  ? 
No  ;  all  that's  worth  a  wish,  a  thought, 
Fair  virtue  gives  unbribed,  unbought: 
Cease  then  on  trash  thy  hopes  to  bind ; 
Let  nobler  views  engage  thy  mind. 

Dr.  JouifsoN. 

Why  dost  thou  heap  up  wealth,  which  thou  must  quit, 

Or,  what  is  worse,  be  left  by  it  ? 
Why  dost  thou  load  thyself,  when  thou'rt  to  fly, 

O  man,  ordained  to  die  ? 

Cowley. 

To  catch  Dame  Fortune's  golden  smile, 

Assiduous  wait  upon  her, 
And  gather  gear  by  every  wile 

That's  justified  by  honor. 
Not  for  to  hide  it  in  a  hedge, 

Not  for  a  train  attendant ; 
But  for  the  glorious  privilege 

Of  being  independent. 


--© 


@: 


44  ARTIFICE,    OR   A    SNARE. 

CATCHFLY. 

Silene. 

Language— ARTIFICE,  OR  A  SNARE. 

Young  men  fly  when  beauty  darts 
Amorous  glances  at  their  hearts  ; 
The  fixed  mark  gives  the  shooter  aim ; 
And  ladies'  looks  have  power  to  maim  ; 
Now  'twixt  their  lips,  now  in  their  eyes. 
Rapt  in  a  smile,  or  kiss,  love  lies ; 
Then  fly  betimes,  for  only  they 
Conquer  love  that  run  away. 

Caeeh". 

Farewell !  ah,  farewell !  though  my  spirit  may  droop, 

That  its  fond  dream  has  fled,  and  in  bitterness  stoop 

To  the  dust  for  the  fall  of  the  idol  it  made. 

My  pride  and  its  purity  nought  shall  degrade. 

I  thought  thee  all  perfect,  as  pure  as  the  sun, 

And  thy  truth  and  thy  brightness  my  wild  worship  won  ; 

But  alas  !  the  illusion  so  cherished  is  o'er  ; 

My  pride  has  been  roused,  and  I'll  meet  thee  no  more. 

AxoN- 

The  blossoms  of  passion, 
Gay  and  luxuriant  flowers,  are  brighter  and  fuller  of  fra- 
grance ; 
But  they  beguile  us  and  lead  us  astray,  and  their  odor  is 
deadly. 

Longfellow. 


ENERGY   IN   ADVERSITY.  45 


CAMOMILE. 

Anthemis  JYobilis. 

Language  —  ENERGY  IN  ADVERSITY. 

Never  go  gloomily,  man  with  a  mind  ; 

Hope  is  a  better  companion  than  fear ; 
Providence,  ever  benignant  and  kind, 

Gives  with  a  smile  what  you  take  with  a  tear ; 
All  will  be  right ; 
Look  to  the  light ; 
Morning  is  ever  the  daughter  of  night ; 
All  that  is  black  will  be  all  that  is  bright ; 
Cheerily,  cheerily,  then !  cheer  up  ! 

Many  a  foe  is  a  friend  in  disguise ; 

Many  a  sorrow  a  blessing  most  true, 
Helping  the  heart  to  be  happy  and  wise 

With  lore  ever  precious  and  joys  ever  new  ; 
Stand  in  the  van  ; 
Strive  like  a  man ; 
This  is  the  bravest  and  cleverest  plan  ; 
Trusting  in  God,  while  you  do  what  you  can  ; 
Cheerily,  cheerily,  then !  cheer  up  ! 

T  UPPER. 

If  your  resolutions  be  like  mine, 

We  will  yet  give  our  sorrows  a  brave  end. 

Justice  is  for  us  ;  so  may  fortune  be : 

I'm  a  bright  proof  of  her  inconstancy  ; 

But  if  no  god  will  lend  us  any  aid, 

Let  us  be  gods  and  fortune  to  ourselves.      ^^^^^ 

—  @ 


@ 

46  DISDAIN. 


CARNATION. 

Dianthiis. 

Language  —  DISDAIN. 

A  PRIME  city  girl, 

With  a  frown  and  a  curl 
On  her  lip  that  proclaimed  her  a  scoffer, 

Was  quite  in  a  panic 

That  John  —  a  mechanic  — 
Had  affronted  her  pride  with  an  "  offer." 

"  'Tis  exceedingly  queer, 

I  acknowledge,  my  dear," 
Retorted  her  sorrowing  brother  ; 

"  But  you  may  depend, 

To  your  very  life's  end 
You'll  never  be  plagued  with  another." 

Anoit. 

Madam,  you  haply  scorn  the  vulgar  earth 

Of  which  I  stand  compacted  ;  and  because 

I  cannot  add  a  splendor  to  my  name, 

Reflective  from  a  royal  pedigree, 

You  interdict  my  language  ;  but  be  pleased 

To  know,  the  ashes  of  my  ancestors. 

If  intermingled  in  the  tomb  with  kings, 

Could  hardly  be  distinguished.     The  stars  shoot 

An  equal  influence  on  the  open  cottage, 

Where  the  poor  shepherd's  child  is  rudely  nursed, 

As  on  the  cradle  where  the  prince  is  rocked 

With  care  and  whisper. 

Habbivotov. 


©= 


STRENGTH. 


® 


47 


CEDAR  TREE. 

Juniperus. 

Language  —  STRENGTH. 

And  while  in  peace  abiding 

Within  a  sheltered  home, 
We  feel  as  sin  and  evil 

Could  never,  never  come  ; 
But  let  the  strong  temptation  rise 

As  whirlwinds  sweep  the  sea. 
We  find  no  strength  to  'scape  the  wreck. 

Save,  pitying  God,  in  thee  ! 

Mrs. 

Ay,  nerve  thy  spirit  to  the  proof. 

And  blench  not  at  thy  chosen  lot : 
The  timid  good  may  stand  aloof, 

The  sage  may  frown  ;  yet  faint  thou  not. 
Nor  heed  the  shaft  too  surely  cast, 

The  hissing,  stinging  bolt  of  scorn  ; 
For  with  thy  side  shall  dwell  at  last 

The  victory  of  endurance  born. 


There  is  strength 
Deep  bedded  in  our  hearts,  of  which  we  reck 
But  little  till  the  shafts  of  heaven  have  pierced 
Its  fragile  dwelling.     Must  not  earth  be  rent 
Before  her  gems  are  found  ? 

Mrs.  Hemaxs. 


-'b 


@  = 

II 

48  SPIRITUAL    BEAUTY. 


CHERRY  BLOSSOM. 

Primus  Ccrasus. 

Language  —  SPIRITUAL  BEAUTY. 

I've  gazed  on  many. a  brigliter  face, 

But  ne'er  on  one,  for  years, 
Where  beauty  left  so  soft  a  trace 

As  it  had  left  on  hers. 
But  who  can  paint  the  spell  that  wove 

A  brightness  round  the  whole  ? 
'Twould  take  an  angel  from  the  skies 

To  paint  the  immortal  soul  — 
To  trace  the  light,  the  inborn  grace, 

The  spirit   sparkling  o'er  the  face. 


Mks.  Welby. 


'Tis  not  its  binding  fair. 
Though  it  show  beauty  rare  ; 

'Tis  not  its  cover  rich,  winneth  me  so  ; 
Vainly  the  blush  and  smile 
Meet  on  thy  cheek  the  while, 

Did  not  the  light  within  equally  glow  ? 

Bright  eyes  will  lose  their  ray, 

Roses  will  fade  away  ; 
But  the  fair  spirit  for  death  is  too  pure  ; 

And  like  its  cause  in  thee. 

Holy,  and  strong,  and  free  : 
While  thy  soul  lives,  my  passion  will  endure. 


Mes.  Osgood. 


©- 


MENTAL  BEAUTY. 


=© 


49 


CLEMATIS. 

Clematis  Virginica. 

Language  —  MENTAL  BEAUTY. 

What's  female  beauty  but  an  air  divine, 
Through  which  the  mind's  all  gentle  graces  shine  ? 
They,  like  the  sun,  irradiate  all  between ; 
The  body  charms  because  the  sotd  is  seen. 
Hence  men  are  often  captives  of  a  face, 
They  know  not  why,  of  no  peculiar  grace  ; 
Some  forms,  though  bright,  no  mortal  man  can  bear 
Some,  none  resist,  though  not  exceeding  fair. 


Time  has  small  power 

O'er  features  the  mind  moulds.     Roses,  where 
They  once  have  bloomed,  a  fragrance  leave  behind  ; 
And  harmony  will  linger  on  the  wind  ; 

And  suns  continue  to  light  up  the  air 
When  set ;  and  music  from  the  broken  shrine 

Breathes,  it  is  said,  around  whose  altar  stone 
His  flower  the  votary  has  ceased  to  twine  — 

Types  of  the  beauty  that,  when  youth  is  gone. 
Breathes  from  the  soul  whose  brightness  mocks  decline. 

Georok  Hill. 


Ah  !  the  cheek  and  eye  v:i\l  fade/ 
Beauty  owns  immortal  grace  ; 

Throned  she  sits  within  the  soul; 
There  is  beauty's  dwelling-place. 


Miss  Vaxdenhoff. 


1©= 


<o) 


50  THE    DEAD. 


CINQUEFOIL. 
Potentilla, 

i^NGDAGE  — THE    DEAD. 

Winds  waft  the  breath  of  flowers 

To  wanderers  o'er  the  wave, 
But  bear  no  message  from  the  bowers 
Beyond  the  grave. 

Proud  science  scales  the  skies  — 

From  star  to  star  doth  roam, 
But  reacheth  not  the  shore  where  lies 
The  spirit's  home. 

Impervious  shadows  hide 

This  mystery  of  Heaven  ; 
But  where  all  knowledge  is  denied, 

To  hope  is  given. 


Joim  Malcomi 


The  dead,  the  much-loved  dead  ! 

Who  doth  not  yearn  to  know 
The  secret  of  their  dwelling-place, 

And  to  what  land  they  go  ? 
What  heart  but  asks,  with  ceaseless  tone, 
For  some  sure  knowledge  of  its  own  ?     - 

Ye  are  not  dead  to  us  ; 

But  as  bright  stars  unseen. 
We  hold  that  ye  are  ever  near. 

Though  death  intrude  between, 
Like  some  thin  cloud  that  veils  from  sight 
The  countless  spangles  of  the  night. 


©: 


@ 

NATIVE    GRACE.  51 


COWSLIP. 

Dodecatheon. 

Language  —  NATIVE    GRACE. 

Accomplishments  were  native  to  her  mind, 
Like  precious  pearls  within  a  clasping  shell, 

And  winning  grace  her  every  act  refined. 
Like  sunshine  shedding  beauty  where  it  fell. 

Mrs.  Hale. 

She  clasps  no  golden  zone  of  pride 
Her  fair  and  simple  robe  around  ; 

By  flowing  ribbon,  lightly  tied, 
Its  graceful  folds  are  bound. 

And  thus  attired,  a  sportive  thing. 

Pure,  loving,  guileless,  bright,  and  wild, 

Proud  Fashion !  match  me  in  your  ring. 
New  England's  mountain  child. 

Mrs.  Osgood. 

A  maid  of  sixteen  years,  of  twilight  eyes. 

Deep-set  and  dark,  and  fringed  with  pencil  dyes ; 

Her  forehead  not  too  high,  where  thick  black  hair. 

Combed  smooth  and  parted,  showed  the  whiteness  there; 

Her  form  of  rounded  symmetry,  where  art. 

That  makes  so  many  beauties,  bore  no  part ; 

With  mind  untutored,  yet  so  constituted. 

She  never  spoke  amiss,  nor  e'er  disputed; 

A  girl  like  this  who  would  not  love  and  cherish  ? 

Or  having  won  her  heart,  could  leave  that  heart  to  perish  ? 


52  ALWAYS    CHEERFUL. 


COREOPSIS. 

Coreopsis  Tindoria. 

Language— ALWAYS   CHEERFUL. 

I  ASKED  the  flowers,  in  the  soft  spring  time, 
Wherefore  they  smiled  ip  their  youthful  prime, 
When  the  stormy  days  so  soon  should  come 
That  would  blight  forever  their  beauty  and  bloom ; 
And  the  sweet  flowers  answered,  "  Each  day  renews 
On  our  leaves  the  sunshine  that  dries  the  dews : 
Why  should  we  not  smile  ?    Till  now  we  have  thriven, 
And  the  sunshine  and  dew  are  both  from  heaven  !  " 

M.  A.  Beownk. 

Life,  believe,  is  not  a  dream 

So  dark  as  sages  say  ; 
Oft  a  little  morning  rain 

Foretells  a  pleasant  day.    • 
Sometimes  there  are  clouds  of  gloom, 

But  these  are  transient  all ; 
If  the  shower  will  make  the  roses  bloom, 
O,  why  lament  its  fall  ? 
Rapidly,  merrily, 
Life's  sunny  hours  flit  by. 

Gratefully,  cheerily ; 
Enjoy  them  as  they  fly. 

CuEREE  Bell. 


*:^ll^ 


©= 


I   AM   HIS.  53 


CROCUS. 

Crocus  Vernus. 

Language — I  AM  HIS. 

Confirmed,  then,  I  resolve, 
Adam  shall  share  with  me  in  bliss  or  woe  ; 
So  dear  I  love  him,  that  with  him  all  deaths 
I  could  endure,  without  him  live  no  life. 

Milton's  Paradise  Lost. 

Across  the  threshold  led, 
And  every  tear  kissed  off  as  soon  as  shed, 
His  ho\ise  she  enters,  there  to  be  a  light 
Shining  within,  when  all  without  is  night ; 
A  guardian  angel  o'er  his  life  presiding. 
Doubling  his  pleasure,  and  his  cares  dividing. 

RooEES's  Human  Life. 

O,  save  to  one  familiar  friend. 

Thy  heart  its  veil  should  wear, 
The  faithless  vow  be  all  unheard,  — 

The  flattery  wasted  there  ; 
Heeding  the  homage  of  the  vain 

As  lightly  as  some  star, 
Whose  steady  radiance  changes  not, 

Though  thousands  kneel  afar. 

«    Whittier. 


©•  -  -© 


54  ARISTOCRACY. 


CROWiN   IMPERIAL. 

Fritillaria  Imperialis. 

Language  —  ARISTOCRACY. 

Art  thou  not  noble  ?     Then  thy  brow  belies  thee  ! 
Thou  art !  I  read  it  in  thy  proud  dark  eyes, 
Whose  glance  is  truth  and  love  ;  and  in  those  lips, 
Whose  smile  is  but  a  ray  of  the  soul's  sunshine  ; 
In  thy  high  bearing,  jn  thy  movements,  words  : 
Thou  art  of  Heaven's  nobility  —  as  far 
Excelling  earth's,  as  doth  yon  winged  star, 
Robed  in  its  garment  of  celestial  glory. 
Outshine  the  earth-bound  glowworm. 

Mrs.  Osgood. 

• 

In  the  great  world  —  which,  being  interpreted, 
Meaneth  the  west  or  worst  end  of  the  city. 

And  about  twice  two  thousand  people  bred 
By  no  means  to  be  very  wise  or  witty, 

But  to  sit  up  while  others  lie  in  bed, 

And  look  down  on  the  universe  with  pity  — 

Juan,  as  an  inveterate  patrician, 

Was  well  received  by  persons  of  condition. 

BrEOx. 

Howe'er  it  be,  it  seems  to  me 

'Tis  only  noble  to  be  good  ; 
Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets, 

And  simple  faith  than  Norman  blood. 


@'= 


DISAPPOINTED    HOPES.  55 


CYPRESS. 
'  Cupressus. 

Language— DISAPPOINTED   HOPES. 

We  parted  in  sadness,  but  spoke  not  of  parting ; 

We  talked  not  of  hopes  that  we  both  must  resign  ; 
I  saw  not  her  eyes  ;  but  one  teardrop,  starting. 

Fell  down  on  her  hand  as  it  trembled  in  mine  : 
Each  felt  that  the  past  we  could  never  recover  ; 

Each  felt  that  the  future  no  hope  could  restore  : 
She  shuddered  at  wringing  the  heart  of  her  lover, 

/dared  not  to  say  I  must  meet  her  no  more. 
Long  years  have  gone  by,  and  the  spring  time  smiles  ever, 

As  o'er  our  young  loves  it  first  smiled  in  their  birth  ; 
Long  years  have  gone  by,  yet  that  parting,  O,  never 

Can  it  be  forgotten  by  either  on  earth. 
The  note  of  each  wild  bird,  that  carols  towards  heaven, 

Must  tell'  her  of  swift-winged  hopes  that  were  mine  ; 
While  the  dew  that  steals  over  each  blossom  at  even 

Tells  me  of  the  teardrop  that  wept  their  decline. 


The  conflict  is  over,  the  struggle  is  past ; 
I  have  looked,  I  have  loved,  I  have  worshipped  my  last : 
Now  back  to  the  world,  and  let  Fate  do  her  worst 
On  the  heart  that  for  thee  such  devotion  has  nursed. 


Of  all  afl[liction  taught  a  lover  yet, 
'Tis  sure  the  hardest  science  to  forget. 

Pope's  Eloisa. 
@  © 


@ 

56  EARLY   TIMES. 


EARLY  TIMES. 

It  was  the  morning  of  the  Sabbath  :  there  was 
a  holy  calm  resting  upon  the  earth,  and  the  air 
seemed  hushed  in  solemn  silence. 

Two  beings,  members  of  the  first  family  of 
earth,  were  sitting  beneath  a  tree  whose  pensive 
branches  shut  out  the  !rays  of  the  sun.  while  they  in- 
vited the  morning  breezes  that  came  over  meadow 
and  upland,  bearing  the  fragrance  of  every  lovely 
flower,  and  imparting  health  and  delight. 

The  morning  hymn  died  away,  though  gentle 
sounds,  as  if  echoes  were  multiplied  in  the  air, 
seemed  to  repeat  and  protract  the  notes.  There 
were  auditors,  not  visible,  and  worshippers,  un- 
seen, whose  office  was  to  bear  upward  the  prayer 
and  praise  of  contrite,  grateful  hearts  to  the  visible 
presence  of  Him  who  was  invisibly  present  every 
where,  or  seen  only  in  and  by  his  works,  and  heard 
by  his  providences.  When  the  aerial  sounds  had 
ceased,  the  pair  rose  from  their  knees  ;  and  as  the 
youngest  and  most  delicate  assumed  an  upright 
position,  her  long  hair  fell  gracefully  backward, 
and  displayed  a  face  of  exquisite  loveliness,  on 
which  rested  a  smile  of  humble  devotion,  mingled 
with  a  consciousness  of  accepted  sacrifice.    .    .    . 

"  I  would  gather  a  bunch  of  flowers  for  dear 
Cain,"  said  the  female,  "  but  that  I  have  marked 
that  he  never  exhibits  a  love  for  flowers,  though  his 

^  -  @| 


■-© 


EARLY    TIMES.  57 


life  ia  devoted  to  the  cultivation  of  the  earth.  It  is 
strange  that  he  should  find  no  pleasure  in  what  may- 
be considered  the  most  delightful  branch  of  his  pur- 
suit, especially  when  that  pursuit  is  voluntary." 

"  That  is  because  the  end  of  his  labor  is  that 
which  occupies  his  thoughts :  he  has  less  joy  in 
the  pursuit  than  in  the  results,  and  the  accumula- 
tion of  perishable  products  is  the  object  which  ex- 
cites and  rewards  his  exertions." 

"  But  Cain  has  a  heart  susceptible  of  the  finest 
feelings,  of  the  deepest,  purest  love.  O  Abel, 
could  you  have  heard  his  impassioned  appeal  to  me 
when  last  we  met,  and  when  all  I  could  say  to  him 
was,  that  he  could  never  have  less  from  me  than  a 
sister's  love,  —  and  I  had  nothing  more  to  offer,  — 
could  you  have  heard  or  seen  him  then,  you  would 
have  confessed  that  Cain  possessed  all  that  power 
of  love  which  you  say  is  necessary  to  an  enjoy- 
ment of  nature's  wonders,  as  they  lie  stretched  out 
before  us." 

"  Susceptibility  of  strong  feelings  of  love,  in- 
deed, my  dear  sister,  is  not  the  evidence  of  that 
quality  which  makes  lovely  —  the  most  sordid  self- 
ishness is  quite  consistent  with  the  most  violeftt 
passion.  True  love,  pure  affection,  seeks  the  good 
of  its  object." 

"  But  could  Cain  have  sought  only  his  personal 
gratification  in  his  efforts  to  bring  me  to  his  tent  ? 
Might  he  not  have  sought  my  happiness  as  well  as 
his  own,  and  intended  to   devote   himself  to  the 

@  .  @ 


58  EARLY    TIMES. 


promotion  of  that  peace  which  arises  only  from 
mutual  sacrifice?" 

"  What,  dear  Mahala,  would  supply  to  you  the 
place  of  love,  when  the  rash  humor  of  our  elder 
brother  should  manifest  itself,  if  not  in  ankindness, 
at  least  in  restlessness  and  neglect  ?  " 

"  How  often,  Abel,  have  We  seen  the  sign  of 
grief,  almost  of  anger,  pass  from  our  father's 
brow,  and  the  smile  of  affection  take  its  place,  as 
he  cast  his  eyempon  his  group  of  children  —  upon 
Cain  and  you,  and  little  Ada  and  myself  I  May  not 
the  Creator  have  placed  children  in  the  tent  of 
man,  not  more  to  perpetuate  the  race  than  to 
soothe  present  irritation,  and  bring  back  ta  the 
heart  the  affection  which  disappointment  and  vex- 
ation seem  to  be  expelling  thence  ?  " 

"  But  let  us  hasten,  Mahala,  for  1  see  our  father 
entering  the  tent  of  worship,  and  I  would  not  be, 
nor  have  you,  the  last  to  meet  him :  Cain  yet 
lingers  in  his  garden,  and  will  earn  rebuke  by  his 
tardiness." 

Hand  in  hand  the  affianced  ones  passed  onward, 
and  joined  the  family  group  that  was  about  to 
offer  prayer  to  God.  And  upward  to  heaven  from 
the  family  altar  ascended  the  smoke  of  the  sacri- 
fice which  the  fire  was  consuming,  and  upward 
from  the  hearts  of  the  worshippers  w^ent  the  in- 
cense from  the  sacrifice  of  desires  and  the  offerings 
of  affection,  which  man  burns  to  his  Maker's 
glory  and  his  own  good. 


EARLY    TIMES.  59 


Another  form  was  walking  in  his  garden  ;  and 
the  face  of  Cain,  burned  as  it  was  by  exposure  to 
the  wind  and  sun,  was  lighted  by  a  smile  of  rec- 
ognition, as  he  welcomed  the  winged  messenger. 

"  I  came  with  pleasure,  Cain,  at  your  bidding, 
for  I  have  waited  long  this  rarely-occurring  invi- 
tation." 

"  Invitation !  Joyed  as  I  am  to  meet  you,  did 
I  invite  your  presence  ?  " 

"  Has  sin  changed  aught  in  me  ?  " 

"  Has  it  not  ?  Where  are  your  daily  colloquies 
with  heavenly  messengers  ?  Where  the  fulfilment 
in  you,  or  through  you,  of  those  mighty  promises 
whose  prospective  fulfilment  soothed  the  anguish 
of  Eve's  departure  from  paradise  ?  " 

"  Shall  not  the  world  be  blessed  in  my  seed  ?  " 

"  Neither  in  thee  nor  thine." 

'"Tis  for  Abel,  then,  and  Mahala;  and  wdth 
this  outrage  on  my  affection  is  the  disappointment 
of  the  promise  of  my  birth.  And  I  must  toil  on 
amid  the  profusion  of  inanimate  earth  —  an  out- 
cast from  love,  disappointed  in  my  ambition  ;  and 
Abel  must  triumph  in  all  —  beloved  of  Adam  and. 
Eve,  of  Mahala,  of " 

"  God." 

"  Of  God  —  beloved  of  God ;  and  thus  from 
him  shall  come  the  Shiloh." 

The  fading  form  of  the  angel  was  scarcely  seen 
by  Cain,  but  his  voice  was  heard  pronouncing, 
"  Neither  in  thee  nor  in  Abel  shall  the  promise  be 

©-  '  @ 


©  @ 

60  EARLY   TIMES. 

fulfilled  ;  for  the  unborn  has  the  Maker  reserved 
the  honor."         .... 

The  evening  of  the  second  day  of  the  week  was 
drawing  on,  and  the  light  of  the  declining  sun  was 
resting  on  the  beautiful  landscape  that  lay  west  of 
the  Hill  of  Sacrifice. 

No  cloud  that  day  marked  the  horizon  ;  and  as 
the  sun  sank  lower  and  lower  in  the  evening  re- 
treat, his  expanded  form  poured  new  richness 
upon  the  heavens,  and  the  whole  west  was  one 
mass  of  liquid  light. 

From  a  southern  point  at  the  base  of  the  hill 
was  seen  a  movement,  and  shortly  afterwards  six 
human  beings  were  observed  emerging  from  the 
tent,  that  occupied  a  sheltered  position  below. 
Mankind^  in  solemn  procession,  was  going  up  to 
the  evening  sacrifice.  It  was  the  hour  and  the 
place. 

Foremost  in  the  company  was  Adam.  In  his 
towering  form  was  combined  all  that  has  since 
been  dreamed  of  manly  perfection  ;  his  tread  was 
firm  upon  the  earth,  and  his  eye  was  elevated 
towards  the  altar  that  stood  half  way  up  the 
mountain ;  though  in  that  eye  was  observable  a 
restlessness,  which  denoted  more  of  a  parent's 
anxiety  than  a  parent's  pride.  Leaning  upon  the 
arm  of  Adam  was  the  mother  of  mankind,  full 
of  ripened  beauty.  Disobedience  had  driven  her 
from  paradise,  but  it  had  made  Adam  the  com- 
panion  of  her   departure.     Grief,  silent,  thought- 

@—  = 


EARLY    TIMES.  61 


ful  grief,  had  hung  a  weight  upon  her  heart;  but 
it  had  not  yet  diminished  the  loveliness  of  her 
form,  or  the  exquisite  expression  of  her  face.  Not 
since  has  such  a  man  trod  this  earth ;  not  since 
have  the  flowers  of  the  field  seemed  to  borrow 
their  lustre  from  such  a  woman. 

Cain  followed,  leading  in  his  hand  the  young 
and  gentle  Ada.  Every  fawn  that  sprang  up  from 
the  copses  around  provoked  her  to  disturb  the 
measured  step  of  the  procession,  and  the  young 
gazelle,  that  paused  to  gaze  upon  her  from  the 
summit  of  a  rock,  felt  its  own  eye  dimmed  in  the 
lustre  of  that  of  the  youngest  of  the  children  of 
men.  Abel  and  Mahala  closed  the  procession. 
With  them  there  was  less  of  anxiety  than  was 
seen  in  Adam  and  Eve,  and  nothing  of  the  pain- 
ful restlessness  which  distinguished  Cain.  Maha- 
la wore  the  bridal  dress.  It  was  made  of  the 
skins  of  the  youngest  lambs  of  her  lover's  flock  — 
lambs  that  had  been  selected,  for  the  perfection  of 
their  form  and  the  beauty  of  their  delicate  fleeces, 
as  the  sacrifices  of  the  day. 

Leaning  on  the  arm  of  Abel,  with  head  de- 
clined, as  if  modestly  thoughtful  #t  the  fulfilment 
of  her  wishes,  Mahala  heard  and  replied  to  his 
professions  of  love.  Graces  seemed  attendant  on 
her  lovely  form,  the  sun  settled  in  glorious  lustre 
upon  the  pure  white  of  her  neck  and  shoulders, 
and  the  odors  of  a  thousand  flowers  were  crushed^ 
out  by  her  delicate  footfall. 
@.  ■  -© 


@  @ 

62  EARLY   TIMES. 

"  Beloved  Abel,"  said  Mahala,  pressing  the  arm 
of  her  lover,  and  pausing  in  the  progress,  as  if  to 
give  force  to  her  remark,  "  have  you  observed  how 
restless,  how  undevotional,  seems  our  brother  Cain  ? 
If  aught  could  bring  a  pang  to  my  heart  at  this 
moment,  it  would  be  that  what  constitutes  your 
happiness  and  mine  seems  to  be  the  occasion  of 
anguish  to  him." 

"  Mahala,  does  there  lurk  in  your  bosom  an 
affection  for  Cain,  that  would  make  this  occasion 
less  than  one  of  entire  happiness  to  you  ?  " 

"  Is  sympathy  with  the  anguish  of  one  brother 
incompatible  with  love  for  another?  May  I  not 
mourn,  dear  Abel,  for  the  disappointment  of  Cain, 
while  I  enjoy  all  of  the  happiness  which  your  af- 
fection and  mine  can  impart?  " 

Man- — pure,  innocent,  and  fortunate,  even  as 
Abel  —  has  something  of  selfishness  lurking  in  his 
heart,  that  makes  him  unjust  to  the  motives  of 
woman  ;  suspicious  of  the  extent  of  those  very 
virtues  for  which  he  loves  her ;  intolerant  of  any 
affection  in  her  which  does  not  centre  on  himself; 
and  most  intolerant  of  any  feeling  of  regret,  on 
her  part,  for  that  disappointment  in  another  which 
would  be  death  to  him :  and  never,  since  Adam, 
was  there  a  man  without  the  feeling  which  is  so 
opposite  to  the  other  characteristic  of  the  good. 

Though  Abel  felt  the  gentle  rebuke  of  his  sister, 
and  to  himself  confessed  its  justice,  he  could  not 
quite  dismiss  from  his  heart  the  feeling  by  which 

@ 


EARLY    TIMES. 


63 


that  rebuke  was  earned.  Pressing,  therefore,  the 
arm  of  Mahala  closer  to  his  side,  he  pointed  out 
to  her  the  necessity  of  hastening  forward,  to  resume 
their  places  in  the  little  procession.  The  whole 
soon  reached  a  small,  level  plot  on  the  northern 
side  of  the  hill,  on  which  stood  a  rude  altar  of 
square  stones,  —  selected,  not  hewn,  —  covered  with 
a  broad,  slaty  slab,  and  upon  the  last  lay  a  pile  of 
wood. 

In  front,  on  the  west  side  of  the  altar,  kneeled 
Cain  and  Ada. 

At  the  altar,  standing  in  deep  devotion,  were 
Abel  and  Mahala,  and  at  the  side  of  the  altar  was 
Eve.  Elevated  above  all,  on  the  eastern  side,  stood 
Adam  :  on  one  hand  lay  the  prepared  victims  for 
the  holocaust ;  on  the  other  burned  the  torch  that 
was  to  light  the  fire  on  the  altar. 

The  first  human  dispenser  of  the  great  sacra- 
ment had  no  formula  —  no  precedent.  Skilled  in 
the  affections  and  passions  of  man,  their  delights 
and  their  dangers,  and  prescient  of  the  future,  he 
stood  with  the  solemnity  of  a  priest,  and  solicitude 
of  a  father.  And  when  he  had  surveyed  the  scene, 
so  extensive,  so  lovely,  his  eye  rested  upon  his  wife 
and  children,  who,  with  himself,  constituted  the 
whole  world  of  mankind  —  the  fountain  whence 
was  to  flow  the  stream  of  human  life,  a  turbid 
current,  chafing  and  wasting  where  it  rushed. 

But  Abel  and  Mahala  —  how  loving,  how  love- 
ly!     Could  they  sutler  or  provoke  violence  ? 


9)-- 


■■<§> 


® —  -  @j 

64  EAKLY   TIMES. 

With  elevated  head  and  outstretched  hand,  the 
father  of  mankind  implored  from  the  Creator  the 
choicest  blessing  of  temporal  gifts  and  spiritual 
guidance.  He  prayed  for  peace,  and  love,  and 
issue ;  and  as  he  lifted  his  soul  in  prayer,  the  rays 
of  the  setting  sun  played  in  golden  radiance  round 
his  head,  and  seemed  a  crown  dropped  there  by 
the  hand  of  some  ministering  angel. 

Adam  paused,  and  there  was  silence :  the  high 
communion  of  his  heart  could  not  brook  a  sudden 
transfer  to  human  colloquy,  but  mingling  the  love 
of  God  with  parental  affection,  he  at  length  ad- 
dressed his  waiting  children  ;  and  while  he  com- 
mended to  them  that  gentle  forbearance  which  is 
the  child  of  love,  and  parent  of  desirable  peace,  he 
absolved  them  both  from  all  duty  of  special  obedi- 
ence, and  gave  to  them  the  right  to  rank  with  him 
in  the  race  of  families,  but  below  him  in  patri- 
archal and  political  authority. 

"  Go,  my  son,  and  be  master  of  thy  tent  and 
thy  flock  :  no  more  can  I  exact  obedience  from 
thee ;  no  more  need  thy  conscience  excite  in  thee 
to  award  me  more  than  filial  reverence.  Go,  be 
the  head  of  thine  house,  and  may  God  bless  thee 
and  thine,  as  he  has  blessed  me  in  thee." 

The  nuptial  benediction  of  Eve  was  breathed 
almost  in  silence  over  her  daughter,  whom  she 
kissed  with  maternal  fondness,  and  lifted  up  her 
voice  and  wept. 

The  sacrificial  flame  ascended  from  the  altar, 


@= 


EARLY    TIMES.  65 


and  through  the  clear,  pure  atmosphere  above  and 
around  them  burst  forth  a  thousand  stars,  ere  yet 
the  posthumous  light  of  the  sun  had  passed  from 
the  west. 

Cain  went  silently  and  sullenly  down  the  hill, 
darkening  in  soul. 

The  wedded  pair  rose  from  before  the  altar,  and 
hand  in  hand  they  sought  their  home. 

Was  it  the  evening  breeze  amongst  acacia 
springs  that  poured  such  sweetness  out  ?  Or  was 
it  the  multitude  of  'angelic  visitors  invisibly  throng- 
ing the  air  that  struck  the  chords  of  their  harps, 
and  sent  up  with  the  incense  from  the  altar  their 
epithalamium  for  the  first  marriage  of  the  chil- 
dren of  men  ?  If  it  was,  their  voices  of  praise  and 
thanksgiving  were  not  more  acceptable  than  the 
incense  that  went  up  from  the  hearts  of  Abel  and 
his  wife 

J.  R.  Chandler. 


:@  ,  '  @ 


66  INNOCENCE. 


DAISY. 

Bellis. 

Language  —  IIIWOCENCE. 

Innocent  maid  and  snow-white  flower, 
"Well  are  ye  paired  in  your  opening  hour  ; 
Thus  should  the  pure  and  lovely  meet, 
Stainless  with  stainless,  and  sweet  with  sweet. 
Throw  it  aside  in  thy  weary  hour ; 
Throw  to  the  ground  the  fair  white  flower ; 
Yet  as  thy  smiling  years  depart. 
Keep  that  white  and  innocent  heart. 

Bryan 

Soft  as  the  memory  of  buried  love. 

Pure  as  the  prayer  which  childhood  wafts  above. 

Was  she  —  the  daughter  of  that  rude  old  chief. 

Byko 

A  mind  rejoicing  in  the  light 

Which  melted  through  its  graceful  bower, 
Leaf  after  leaf  serenely  bright, 
And  stainless  in  its  holy  white. 

Unfolding  like  a  morning  flower. 


Whittiek. 


I  wish  the  bud  would  never  blow  ! 

'Tis  prettier  and  purer  so  : 
It  blushes  through  its  bower  of  green 

And  peeps  above  the  mossy  screen, 
So  timidly,  I  cannot  bear 

To  have  it  open  to  the  air ! 


Mrs.  Osgood. 


@: 


@. 


:(0) 


COQUETRY. 


67 


DANDELION. 
Leontodon. 


!§>= 


Language  —  COQUETRY. 

Think  not  I  love  him,  though  I  ask  for  him : 
'Tis  but  a  peevish  boy  —  yet  he  talks  well ; 
But  what  care  I  for  words  ?   yet  words  do  well 
When  he  that  speaks  them  pleases  those  that  hear. 

Shakspeake. 

Then,  youth,  thou  fond  believer. 

The  wily  siren  shun : 
Who  trusts  the  dear  deceiver 

Will  surely  be  undone. 
When  beauty  triumphs,  ah,  beware ! 
Her  smile  is  hope !  her  frown  despair ! 

Montgomery's  Wandekek  of  Switzerland. 

*  I  would  sooner  bind 

My  thoughts  to  the  open  sky  ; 

I  would  worship  as  soon  a  familiar  star. 
That  is  bright  to  every  eye. 

'Twere  to  love  the  wind  that  is  free  to  all. 
The  wave  of  the  beautiful  sea  — 

'Twere  to  hope  for  all  the  light  in  heaven. 
To  hope  for  the  love  of  thee. 

Willis. 

Now  I  pray  thee  do  not  call 

My  cousin  a  coquette. 
When  I  tell  you  she  had  danglers 

By  the  dozen  in  her  net : 
For  she  was  very  beautiful, 

Bewildering  and  bright. 

Mrs.  Osgood. 


<§) 


@—  © 

68  POETRY. 


EGLANTINE,  OR  SWEETBRIER. 

Rosa  rubiginosa. 

Language  —  POETRY. 

Never  did  poesy  appear 

So  full  of  heaven  to  me,  as  when 
I  saw  how  it  would  pierce  through  pride  and  fear, 

To  the  lives  of  coarsest  men  ! 
I  thought,  these  men  will  carry  hence 

Promptings,  their  former  life  above, 
And  something  of  a  finer  reverence 

For  beauty,  truth,  and  love. 


J.  R.  Lowell. 


The  land  of  song  within  thee  lies. 
Watered  by  living  springs  ; 

The  lids  of  Fancy's  sleepless  eyes 

Are  gates  unto  that  paradise ; 

Holy  thoughts,  like  stars,  arise  ; 
Its  clouds  are  angels'  wings. 

Look,  then,  into  thy  heart,  and  write ; 

Yes,  into  life's  deep  stream  : 
All  forms  of  sorrow  and  delight, 
All  solemn  voices  of  the  night. 
These  can  soothe  thee,  or  affright : 

Be  these  henceforth  thy  theme. 


LOXGFBLLOW. 


@= 


' 


i®= 


ALWAYS    REMEMBERED. 


--© 


69 


EVERLASTING. 

Gnaplialium. 

Language— ALWxVYS  REMEMBERED. 

Through  the  fragrant  grove  of  olives,  with  a  dark- 
eyed  child  of  Spain, 

I  have  often  whiled  the  hours,  since  I  crossed  the 
moaning  main  ; 

But  the  soul  in  those  soft,  brilliant  ejes,  the  low,  melodi- 
ous tone, 

Bade  mournful  thoughts  of  thee  arise,  my  beautiful,  my 
own! 

'Mid  the   vines   of   sunny  France,  love,  I  have  twined 

the  silken  curl, 
And  met  the  merry  kisses  of  a  light  and  laughing  girl. 
And  richly  waved  the  glittering  tress,  and  wildly  woke 

her  glee !  — 
I  pined  the  more  for  thy  caress  —  more  fondly  thought 

of  thee ! 

A  haughty,  high-born  English  maid  oft  shares  with  me 

the  dance  ; 
Italia's    daughter    bends   on   me    her   full,    impassioned 

glance  ; 
Nor  graceful    mien,  nor  dimpled    bloom,    nor    look   of 

loving  light, 
Can  win  this  faithful  soul  from  thee,  my  purest,  and  most 

bright ! 

Mns.  Osgood. 


5): 


@  = 

70  POVERTY   AND    WORTH. 


EVERGREEN. 

Mespilus. 

Language— POVERTY  AND  WORTH. 

0,  POOR  man's  son,  scorn  not  tlij  state  ; 
There  is  worse  weariness  than  thine 

In  merely  being  rich  and  great : 
Toil  only  gives  the  soul  to  shine, 
And  makes  rest  fragrant  and  benign  — ■ 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 

Worth  being  poor  to  hold  in  fee. 


J.  B.  Lowell. 


My  purse  is  very  slim,  and  very  few 

The  acres  that  I  number  ; 
But  I  am  seldom  stupid,  never  blue  ; 
My  riches  are  an  honest  heart,  and  true, 

And  quiet  slumber. 


All  my  offering  must  be 
Truth  and  spotless  constancy. 


Epes  Sargent. 


Miss  Landon. 


She  had  passed  through  the  shadow  and  sunlight  of  life ; 

She  had  learned,  in  its  storms,  to  exult  and  endure ; 
And  her  gentle  reply  with  sweet  wisdom  was  rife  — 

"  To  me  there  are  none  in  the  universe  poor  !  " 


©: 


TIME. 


^(O) 


71 


FIR. 

Pinus  halsamea. 

Language  —  TIME. 

That  brow  was  fair  to  see,  love, 

That  looks  so  shaded  now  ; 
But  for  me  it  bore  the  care,  love, 

That  spoiled  a  bonny  brow. 
And  though  no  longer  there,  love. 

The  gloss  it  had  of  yore, 
Still  memory  looks  and  dotes,  love, 

Where  hope  admired  before. 


To-morrow  you  will  live,  you  always  cry. 
In  what  far  country  doth  this  morrow  lie. 
That  'tis  so  mighty  long  ere  it  arrive  ? 
Beyond  the  Indies  doth  this  morrow  live  ? 
'Tis  so  far-fetched,  this  morrow,  that  I  fear 
'Twill  be  both  very  old  and  very  dear. 
To-morrow  will  I  live,  the  fool  doth  say : 
To-day  itself  s  too  late ;  the  wise  lived  yesterday. 


Cowley. 


Why  should  we  count  our  life  by  years. 

Since  years  are  short,  and  pass  away  ? 
Or  why  by  fortune's  smiles  or  tears. 

Since  tears  are  vain,  and  smiles  decay  ? 
O,  count  by  virtues  :  these  shall  last 

When  life's  lame-footed  race  is  o'er  : 
And  these,  v/hen  earthly  joys  are  past. 

May  cheer  us  on  a  brighter  shore. 


r(§) 


72  DOMESTIC    INDUSTRY. 


FLAX. 

Linum, 

Language— DOMESTIC  INDUSTRY. 

The  old  lady  sat  in  her  rocking  chair  — 

Darn,  darn,  darn  ; 
The  fire  was  bright  and  the  night  was  fair  — 

Darn,  darn,  darn  ; 
The  stocking  was  old,  and  the  heel  was  worn, 
But  she  was  well  furnished  with  needle  and  yarn, 
And  well  she  knew  how  the  heel  to  turn  — 

Darn,  darn,  darn. 

She  had  sat  in  her  chair  from  morn  till  night  — 

Darn,  darn,  darn ; 
And  still  her  eye  was  watchful  and  bright — 

Darn,  darn,  darn ; 
For  well  she  used  her  needle  to  ply, 
And  every  hole  in  a  stocking  could  spy  — 

Darn,  darn,  darn. 

Young  ladies,  if  ever  you  hope  to  be  wives, 

Darn,  darn,  darn  ; 
For  many  a  call  you  will  have  in  your  lives, 

Darn,  darn,, darn ; 
"Would  you  keep  your  cliildren  neat  and  clean  ? 
Would  you  save  their  toes  from  frostbites  keen  ? 
Then  never  believe  that  darnings  are  mean  — 

But  darn,  darn,  darn. 

(5)  -=^@ 


I        @  .  (o) 

DELICATE    BEAUTY.  73 


FLOWER  OF  AN  HOUR. 

Hibiscus  trionum. 

Language— DELICATE  BEAUTY. 

Spuing  lias  no  blossom  fairer  than  thy  form, 
Winter  no  snow  wreath  purer  than  thy  mind  ; 

The  dewdrop  trembling  to  the  morning  beam 
Is  like  thy  smile,  pure,  transient,  heaven  refined. 

Mrs.  L.  I.  PyiKsoif. 

She  has  a  glowing  heart,  they  say, 

Though  calm  her  seeming  be  ; 
And  oft  that  warm  heart's  lovely  play 

Upon  her  cheek  I  see. 
Her  chfeek  is  almost  always  pale, 

And  marble  cold  it  seems  ; 
But  a  soft  color  quivers  there. 

At  times,  in  rosy  gleams. 
Some  sudden  throb  of  love,  or  grief. 

Or  pity,  or  delight, 
And  lo !    a  flush  of  beauty,  brief. 

But  passionately  bright ! 


Mrs.  Osgood. 


There  was  a  soft  and  pensive  grace, 
A  cast  of  thought  upon  her  face, 
That  suited  well  the  forehead  high. 
The  eyelash  dark,  and  downcast  eye. 
The  mild  expression  spoke  a  mind 
In  duty  firm,  composed,  resigned. 


Scott's  Rokeby. 


^ 


@ 

74  I   AM   BURNING   WITH   LOVE. 


FLOWER-DE-LUCE. 

/m  plicata. 

Language  — I  AM  BURNING  WITH  LOVE. 

It  warms  me,  it  charms  me, 
To  mention  but  her  name ; 
It  heats  me,  it  beats  me, 
And  sets  me  a'  on  flame. 

BUENS. 

Like  Ixion, 
I  look  on  Juno,  feel  mj  heart  turn  to  cinders 
"With  an  invisible  fire  ;  and  yet,  should  she 
Deign  to  appear  clothed  in  a  various  cloud, 
The  majesty  of  the  substance  is  so  sacred 
I  durst  not  clasp  the  shadow.     I  behold  her 
With  adoration ;  feast  my  eye,  while  all 
My  other  senses  starve  ;  and,  oft  frequenting 
The  place  which  she  makes  happy  with  her  presence, 
I  never  yet  had  power,  with  tongue  or  pen, 
To  move  her  to  compassion,  or  make  known 
What  'tis  I  languish  for  ;  yet  I  must  gaze  still, 
Though  it  increase  my  flame. 

Massixger. 

Wlien  love's  well  timed,  'tis  not  a  fault  to  love ; 
The  strong,  the  brave,  the  virtuous,  and  the  wise, 
Sink  in  the  soft  captivity  together. 

Addisok's  Cato. 

@  =@ 


CONFIDENCE    IN    HEAVEN.  75 


FLOWERING  REED. 

Carina  Augustifolia. 

Language  —  CONFIDENCE  IN  HEAVEN. 

Passing  the  enclosure  where  the  dead  repose, 

I  saw,  in  sable  weeds,  a  gentle  pair 
Lingering  with  fond  regard,  at  evening's  close, 

Beside  a  little  grave  fresh  swelling  there. 

Silent  they  stood  —  serene  their  thoughtful  air  ; 

There  fell  no  tear,  no  vain  complaint  arose ; 
Faith  seemed  to  prompt  the  unutterable  prayer. 

And  to  their  view  the  eternal  home  disclose.' 

Next  Sabbath  brought  me  where  the  floweret  lay ; 

Record  of  high  descent  the  marble  bore  — 
Heir  of  a  noble  house,  and  only  stay ; 

And  these  words  gathered  from  the  Bible's  store  — 
"  The  Lord  hath  given,  the  Lord  hath  ta'en  away ; 

His  holy  name  be  blessed  evermore." 

Airoir. 

God  is  nigh 
Even  then  when  far  away  he  seemeth  ; 

When  hope  of  freedom  none  appears. 
Believe  so  best  for  thee  he  deemeth  : 
He  in  his  time  will  dry  thy  tears. 
God  is  nigh ! 

Ulbich. 


©  © 


76  TRUE    LOVE. 


FORGET-ME-NOT. 

Viola  cucula. 

Language  —  TRUE    LOVE. 

Tell  me,  my  beart,  what  love  is  : 

It  giveth  but  to  rob  — 
Two  souls  and  one  idea, 

Two  hearts  and  but  one  throb. 

And  tell  me  how  love  cometh : 

It  comes  —  and  ah,  'tis  here. 
And  whither,  pray,  it  fleeth : 

'Twas  not — 'twas  fancy  mere. 

And  when  is  love  the  purest  ? 

When  its  own  self  it  shuns. 
And  when  is  love  the  deepest  ? 

When  love  the  stillest  runs. 

And  when  is  love  the  richest  ? 

It  hoardeth  when  it  gives. 
And  tell  me  how  love  speaketh  : 

It  speaketh  not  —  it  lives. 

Whither  my  heart  is  gone,  there  follows  my  hand,  and 

not  elsewhere. 
For  where  the  heart  goes  before,  like  a  lamp,  and  illumes 

the  pathway. 
Many  things  are  made   clear,  that   else   lie   hidden  in 

darkness. 

Longfellow's  Evangeline. 
(O)  =zz=@ 


AMBITION.  77 


FOXGLOVE. 

Digitalis. 

Language —AMBITION. 

The  world  has  won  her  —  she  has  learned 

Its  measured  smile  and  tread  ; 
The  foot,  that  once  the  snowflake  spurned, 

By  courtly  rule  is  led ; 
And  fashion's  hand  has  smoothed  the  fold 

Of  that  luxuriant  hair  ; 

Where  once  the  tress  of  glossy  gold 

Waved  wildly  on  the  air. 

Mes.  Osgood. 

TarfLerlane.  The  world !  'twould  be  too  little  for  thy  pride ! 
Thou  wouldst  scale  heaven. 
Bajazet.  I  would :  away  !  my  soul 
Disdains  thy  conference. 

EowE's  Tambelas-b. 

I  am  a  woman :  tell  me  not  of  fame ; 

The  eagle's  wing  may  sweep  the  stormy  path, 

And  fling  back  arrows  where  the  dove  would  die. 

Miss  Lakdoit. 

Give  me  the  boon  of  love  ! 

The  path  of  fame  is  drear, 
And  glory's  arch  doth  ever  span 

A  hillside  cold  and  sere. 
One  wildflower  from  the  path  of  love. 

All  lowly  though  it  lie. 
Is  dearer  than  the  wreath  that  waves 

To  stern  Ambition's  eye. 

H.  S.  TUCKEBMAJT. 

(o)  @ 


78  THE    LADY   PILGRI3I. 


THE  LADY  PILGRIM. 

It  was  early  morning  in  one  of  the  old  palaces 
in  England.  The  night  had  been  a  tempestuous 
one,  but  the  heavy  clouds  were  rolling  away  before 
the  dawn,  and  the  gray  mist  was  creeping  slowly 
up  the  sides  of  the  mountains,  and  hanging  in 
dense  wreaths  over  the  little  streamlet  which 
watered  the  valley  below.  Large  drops  of  rain  hung 
pendent  upon  the  foliage  of  the  gnarled  old  oaks 
which  bordered  the  gravelled  walks  in  the  parks, 
while  a  flood  of  perfume  came  from  the  half- 
opened  buds  of  the  sweet  young  wildflowers. 

The  proud  Earl  of  Lincoln  sat  alone  in  his  rich 
but  antique  reception  room.  His  attitude  was  one 
of  intense  thought,  for  both  arms  rested  heavily 
upon  the  marble  table  before  him,  and  his  head  was 
dropped  upon  them,  as  if  he  were  entirely  absorbed 
in  his  musings.  The  strong  beams  of  light,  now 
fast  thickening,  streamed  in  through  the  high 
stained  windows,  and  tinged  with  a  silvery  bright- 
ness the  gray  locks  which  wandered  over  his  venera- 
ble forehead.  A  loose  dressing  gown,  which  his 
faithful  old  servitor,  Dudley,  had  thrown  around 
him,  was  carelessly  looped  over  his  chest,  and 
swept  the  heavy  oak  floor  upon  either  side  of  his 
chair,  while  his  feet  were  thrust  into  a  pair  of 
delicately  embroidered  slippers,  wrought  by  his 
idolized  daughter,  the  Lady  Arabella. 


@  -         @ 

THE    LADY    PILGRIM.  79 

The  earl  had  long  sat  in  that  same  position.  Two 
or  three  times  Dudley  had  passed  in  and  out,  pausing 
each  time  by  the  door,  anxiously  regarding  his 
master,  and  wondering  what  had  called  him  up 
that  morning,  long  before  another  inmate  of  the 
castle  was  stirring. 

"  What  can  be  the  matter  ?  "  he  muttered,  as  he 
turned  away  the  last  time,  with  an  air  of  unsatis- 
fied curiosity.  "  He  is  not  wont  to  be  in  such  an 
unsocial  mood.  It  is  early,  too,"  he  continued,  as 
he  glanced  up  to  an  old  clock  which  ticked  in  a 
curiously-carved  case,  in  one  corner  of  the  hall. 
"  Something  more  than  usual  is  in  the  wind,  for 
sure." 

"  It  cannot  be !  "  exclaimed  the  earl,  lifting  his 
face,  with  a  troubled  expression,  from  his  hands ;  "  I 
had  strong  hopes  of  it,  but  it  cannot  be  I  The 
Lady  Arabella  is  determined  to  dash  from  her  lips 
every  cup  of  happiness  and  honor  I,  in  my  doting 
fondness,  would  mingle  for  her  ;  she  will  never  be 
a  peeress  in  the  proud  realm  of  England ;  she  pre- 
fers an  untitled  plebeian  to  one  of  her  own  rank ; 
she  laughs  at  all  titles  of  distinction,  and  speaks 
even  jestingly  of  stars,  garters,  and  diamonds. 
From  whom  does  the  girl  take  her  disposition  ? 
Not  from  me.  Heaven  knows,  not  from  me.  My 
earliest  dreams  were  of  power ;  my  infantile  grasp- 
ings  were  after  the  trappings  of  royalty ;  but  the 
countess,  her  mother,  was  a  true  prototype  of  the 
child  —  modest  as  the  violet  which  hides  in  the 
@  —  @ 


1 

! 

-(5) ' 

80  THE    LADY    PILGRIM. 

moss,  unassuming  as  the  humblest  peasant  girl  in 
the  kingdom.  And  yet  she  was  all  that  a  true 
woman  should  be^  continued  the  earl,  as  his  eye 
moistened  over  her  memory.  "  When  alone  with 
me,  she  was  blithe  as  the  spring  bird,  and  her  heart 
was  brimful  of  all  the  kindly  affections  of  our 
nature.  She  is  dead,  and  Arabella  alone  is  left  to 
me  —  sole  heiress  of  the  honors  and  riches  of 
my  house.  I  would  link  her  with  the  house  of 
Devonshire,  for  I  cannot  bear  that  plebeian  blood 
should  ever  flow  through  a  vein  which  claims  kin- 
dred with  me ;  but  the  girl  told  me  last  night  that 
she  loved  one  without  a  title  —  one  as  careless  of 
the  world's  honors  as  herself.  Isaac  Johnson ! 
Who  is  he  ?  They  say  that  he  has  vast  wealth  — 
that,  in  my  eye,  is  his  only  recommendation.  Had 
it  been  otherwise,  I  would  have  punished  his  pre- 
sumption in  aspiring  to  the  hand  of  my  child." 

Again  the  earl  dropped  his  head,  and  mused 
moodily. 

"  My  lord,"  said  Dudley,  opening  the  .door,  and 
cautiously  peering  in,  "  a  gentleman  in  the  hall 
desires  an  audience  with  you.  Shall  I  admit 
him  ?  " 

"  Who  is  he,  and  what  is  his  business  at  this 
hour  ?  "  asked  the  earl,  half  angrily.  "  Can  I  never 
have  a  moment  to  spend  with  my  own  thoughts  ? 
Who  is  it,  Dudley?" 

"I  do  not  know,  for  true,"  said  the  old  man, 
brushing  his  earlocks  back.  "  If  I  might  hazard 
@  = ^@ 


@-  =@ 

THE    LADY   PILGRIM.  81 

a  guess,  I  should  say  it  was  the  young  Duke 
of  Devonshire  —  the  same  who  aided  in  res- 
cuing my  young  mistress  last  summer,  when 
she  was  thrown  from  her  palfrey  among  the  jut- 
ting rocks  in  that  terrible  chasm,  over  which  the 
hounds  leaped  while  in  pursuit  of  the  stag.  It 
may  not  be  the  same,  but  it  looks  wondrously 
like  him  ! " 

"  The  Duke  of  Devonshire  !  "  Pull  my  dress- 
ing gown  around  me,  and  then  show  him  in," 
said  the  old  nobleman,  animatedly.  "  If  it  is 
the  young  Duke  of  Devonshire,  he  possesses  claims 
upon  the  house  of  Lincoln  which  shall  not  long 
remain  unacknowledged." 

The  Earl  of  Lincoln  rose,  while  the  young  and 
handsome  duke  came  forward,  and  bowed  grace- 
fully in  his  presence.  He  retained  his  hunting 
cap  in  his  hand,  the  heavy  plume  of  which  nearly 
swept  the  floor,  and  his  raven  hair  fell  in  rich 
masses  over  a  brow  which  would  not  have  looked 
out  of  place  beneath  a  crown. 

"  I  throw  myself  upon  your  hospitality  at  an 
unusual  hour,"  he  said,  as  he  took  the  extended 
hand  of  the  earl,  and  pressed  it  fervently  and  re- 
spectfully. "  I  owe  an  apology,  perhaps,  for  such 
an  unceremonious  intrusion  ;  but  the  morning  was 
inviting,  and  I  came  forth  early  with  a  band  of 
followers  to  the  chase.  The  sight  of  your  castle 
turrets  arrested  my  attention,  and,  leaving  my  ex- 
pected train  to  follow  a  deer  they  had  aroused,  I 

@-  @ 


:@ 


82  -  THE    LADY   PILGRIM. 

turned  in  hither  to  avail  myself,  for  a  few  hours, 
of  your  hospitality." 

"  While  the  master  of  the  castle  lives,"  blandly 
replied  the  earl,  "  any  hour  which  the  Duke  of 
Devonshire  may  choose  for  his  visits  will  not 
prove  ill  timed  or  unwelcome." 

The  duke  bowed,  as  if  grateful  for  the  honor 
shown  him  by  his  distinguished  host ;  then,  sinking 
upon  an  old  and  curiously-carved  divan,  which 
occupied  a  prominent  position  in  the  room,  he 
began  to  dally  with  his  plume,  and  converse  in  his 
most  insinuating  style. 

The  servant  closed  the  door  upon  his  master 
and  guest,  and  then  turned  to  kennel  the  hounds, 
which  were  left  in  the  yard. 

He  fastened  the  dogs  in  their  enclosme,  and  then 
sat  down  again  on  the  steps  of  the  eastern  porch, 
to  wait  a  summons  to  his  master.  The  bright  sun 
wheeled  its  broad  disk  from  behind  the  eastern 
hills,  and  travelled  higher  and  higher  on  his  way 
towards  the  zenith.  All  nature  was  apparently  re- 
joicing in  a  day  well  begun.  For  two  or  three 
long  hours  the  old  steward  sat  and  looked  out 
upon  the  scene  spread  before  him.  A  low  mur- 
mur, as  of  two  engaged  in  an  absorbing  conversa- 
tion, came  to  him  from  the  room  of  his  master. 
At  length,  as  impatience  began  to  take  possession 
of  him,  he  heard  his  master's  well-known  step  ap- 
proaching the  door.  He  aroused  himself  quickly, 
to  attend  the  summons  which  he  felt  sure  awaited 


©^ 


(o)-  —  (o) 

THE    LADY    PILGRIM.  83 

him.  At  length  it  was  given,  and  he  opened  the 
door  of  the  reception  room,  and- looked  in. 

"  Dudley,"  said  the  old  man,  hurriedly,  "  say  to 
the  Lady  Arabella  that  her  father  and  the  Duke 
of  Devonshire  request  an  immediate  interview. 
They  wait  her  presence."  ,, 

"  Ay,  it  is  as  I  thought,"  muttered  the  old  man, 
as  he  moved  slowly  away  in  the  direction  of  his 
lady's  chamber:  "the  duke  scents  more  precious 
game  than  could  be  started  in  the  park  this  morn- 
ing ;  but  it  will  be  in  vain  —  all  in  vain." 

He  paused,  after  having  ascended  the  oaken  stair- 
case, before  a  door  leading  into  a  chamber,  the 
most  spacious  and  luxurious  in  the  castle.  It 
would  seem  that  every  delicacy  had  been  brought 
into  requisition,  by  the  Earl  of  Lincoln,  to  adorn 
and  beautify  the  room  in  which  his  darling 
daughter  spent  the  sunny  days  of  her  maidenhood. 
Rich  vases  of  flowers  loaded  the  mantel-piece  and 
tables,  while  splendidly-bound  books  were  scat- 
tered here  and  there  throughout  the  room.  In  the 
dark  recesses  of  one  of  the  windows,  the  Lady 
Arabella  herself  was  seated,  busily  engaged  with 
a  book  of  devotions.  While  one  little,  dainty 
hand  supported  her  cheek,  the  other,  with  a  small 
circlet  of  gold  around  the  wrist,  hung  over  the  arm 
of  the  high-backed  chair  in  which  she  reposed. 
Her  dress  was  of  white,  made  in  the  peculiar  fash- 
ion of  that  day,  and  her  hair,  soft  and  brown,  was 
combed  smoothly  back  from  her  high,  intellectual 

© --  -(5) 


@-  ^— -  = 

84  THE    LADY    PILGRIM. 


brow,  and  confined  behind  with  a  small  comb, 
studded  with  diamonds.  As  the  old  servant 
opened  the  door,  she  raised  her  large  blue  eyes 
from  the  book  where  they  had  been  resting,  and 
displayed  a  face  remarkable  for  the  purity  and 
sweetness  of  its  expression,  rather  than  for  its 
beauty.  She  was  evidently  one  of  those  gentle 
beings  who  make  the  paths  they  chance  to  tread 
in  life  seem  smooth  and  thornless — one  whose 
low  musical  words  sink  deep  into  the  heart,  and 
dwell  there  like  remembered  melody  —  one  fragile 
as  the  violet  in  the  deep  wood,  and  yet  born 
"  to  hope,  and  endure  all  things,"  for  conscience' 
sake.  She  seemed  to  have  participated  in  the 
spirit  of  unrest  which  had  pervaded  the  household 
that  morning,  for  she  had  been  up  several  hours, 
and  a  cluster  of  blush  roses  fastened  into  the  front 
of  her  dress  told  that  she  had  been  walking  in 
the  garden,  enjoying  the  invigorating  influences  of 
the  early  morning.  Perhaps  she  was  not  unaware 
of  her  father's  entertaining  an  unusual  guest  that 
morning ;  for  she  rose  immediately,  and  followed 
old  Dudley  to  the  room  where  they  were  waiting. 
As  she  entered,  the  young  Duke  of  Devonshire 
rose  hurriedly  to  greet  her,  while  a  soft  blush  man- 
tled her  face  and  neck.  The  earl,  her  father,  fixed 
his  "keen  eyes  upon  her  face,  as  if  he  would  have 
read  her  inmost  soul ;  but,  save  the  blush  of  maid- 
enly modesty,  there  was  no  sign  of  agitation. 
She  seated  herself,  calmly  and  collectedly,  beside 

@  @ 


THE    LADY    PILGRIM.  85 

the  chair  recently  occupied  by  her  father,  and  then 
sat  as  if  waiting  the  opening  of  a  conversation, 
which  a  delicate  instinct  seemed  to  teach  her 
was  to  follow,  and  which  she  knew  would  cause 
wounds  she  could  never  heal. 

"  My  daughter  has  not  forgotten  one  to  whom, 
under  God,  she  owes  her  life  ! "  said  the  earl,  half 
angrily,  as  he  marked  her  merely  polite  reception 
of  their  illustrious  guest ;  "  the  Duke  of  Devon- 
shire needs  no  formal  introduction  to  her,  I  am 
sure :   he  rescued  you  from  a  watery  grave." 

"  I  vjould  have  done  it,  and  been  most  happy 
in  perilling  my  life  for  one  so  priceless,"  said  the 
duke,  in  an  agitated  voice ;  "  but  an  arm,  stronger 
than  mine,  bore  her  from  the  waves,  while  I  re- 
ceived her  from  the  bank.  For  the  trifling  service 
I  was  then  happy  enough  to  have  it  in  my  power 
to  render,  no  thanks  are  due." 

"  I  have  been  assured  by  my  servants,  who  wit- 
nessed the  scene,"  said  the  earl,  "  that  it  was  to 
your  bravery  I  am  indebted  for  the  life  of  my 
child.  Our  interview  was  brief  at  that  time,  and 
my  feelings  were  too  much  agitated  to  admit  of 
my  thanking  you  as  I  ought.  My  child  has  since 
met  with  you,  and  thanked  you  in  person,  I  have 
been  told  ;  but  neither  thanks  nor  gold  can  pay 
the  debt  of  gratitude  we  are  under  to  you." 

"  I  vshould,  indeed,  be  tlamewofthy  and  un- 
thankful, my  dear  father,  were  I  ever  to  forget  the 
service  rendered  me  by  the  duke  and  his  friend  in 


Co) 

86  THE    LADY   PILGRIM. 


that  dreadful  hour  of  peril,"  said  the  Lady  Ara- 
bella, her  sweet  eyes  filling  with  tears  as  she 
spoke.  "  The  Duke  of  Devonshire  and  Mr.  John- 
son   will  ever  live  in  my  liveliest  remembrance." 

"  Mr.  Johnson ! "  said  the  earl,  lowering  his 
heavy  eyebrows  as  he  spoke.  "Pray,  to  what 
Mr.  Johnson  are  we  indebted  ?  and  why  have  I 
never  been  informed  of  it  before  ?  " 

"  Isaac  Johnson,  dear  father.  The  subject  is  a 
painful  one,  and  has  never  been  adverted  to  since. 
My  lord,  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  though  he  claim 
not  thanks,  will  ever  be  the  possessor  of  my  grati- 
tude." 

As  she  spoke,  she  bowed  towards  the  seat  the 
duke  had  resumed  during  the  conversation. 

"  I  claim  not  gratitude,  noble  lady,  for  any  service 
rendered,"  said  the  duke,  rising  and  approaching 
her  ;  "  but  there  is  a  sentiment  akin  to  that  which 
I  would  give  worlds  on  worlds  to  possess,  were 
they  mine.     I  mean — your  love. '^ 

As  he  spoke,  he  took  her  hand,  and  kneeled  at 
her  feet.  The  flush  came  and  went  upon  the 
cheek  of  the  noble  lady ;  and  her  hand  trembled 
slightly  in  the  palm  which  enclosed  it ;  but  there 
were  no  heart  flutterings ;  her  cheek,  after  a  few 
moments,  resumed  its  steady  color,  and  the  nerves 
grew  firm,  while  in  a  soft  and  gentle  voice  she 
made  rdply. 

"  My  warmest,  best  gratitude,  noble  duke,  is 
yours  —  my  love  is  irrevocably  bestowed  upon 
@ -— ^=^=(o) 


•       THE    LADY   PILGRIM.  87 


another  —  irrevocably  bestoived ;  and  words  have 
been  spoken  which  cannot  be  recalled.  Rise,  I 
pray  you,"  she  continued,  withdrawing  her  hand, 
and  motioning  him  to  his  feet ;  "  rise,  for  I  can- 
not endure  to  see  one  to  whom  I  am  so  deeply 
indebted    assuming  the  attitude  of  a  suppliant." 

The  duke  did  not  stir.  Not  a  muscle  changed ; 
he  seemed  transfixed  to  the  spot.  He  folded  his 
hands  mechanically  over  his  breast,  and  his  large, 
dark  eyes  seemed  dilating  with  intense  emotion. 
One  short  sentence  from  the  fresh,  unchanging  lips 
above  him  had  sealed  his  doom,  and  crushed 
hopes  and  aspirations  long  and  fondly  enter- 
tained. There  was  no  revocation  to  be  made — ■ 
no  words  to  be  recalled ;  he  read  it  in  the  clear 
blue  eye,  in  the  calm  and  steady  voice,  and  unfal- 
tering gaze  of  the  maiden  before  him. 

O,  what  bitter  hours  there  are  in  life  !  "  hours 
which  crush  the  hopes  from  out  young  hearts," 
and  wring  bitter  tears  from  eyes  unused  to  weep- 
ing!—  moments  of  agony,  when  Friendship,  and 
Love,  and  Happiness  are  so  many  phantoms, 
rising  up  and  mocking  us  in  our  misery. 

The  Lady  Arabella  glanced  timidly  up  to  the 
face  of  her  father.  He  still  stood  in  the  centre  of 
the  room,  but  his  cheek  had  become  ashy  in  its 
hue,  and  his  eyes  were  bent  upon  her  more  in  an- 
ger than  in  sorrow.  As  he  encountered  her  gaze, 
he  stepped  forward,  and,  laying  his  hand  upon  her 
head,  spoke. 

©  @ 


@  © 

88  THE    LADY   PILGRIM. 

"  Arabella,  my  child,  reflect  well  upon  what  you 
are  doing !  Remember  that  this  hour  seals  your 
fate  !  Do  you  refuse  to  ally  yourself  with  one  of 
the  proudest  houses  in  the  realm  ?  Will  you  per- 
severe in  preferring  an  untitled  plebeian  to  the  no- 
bleman who  now  sues  for  your  hand  ?  " 

"  Father  !  —  dearest,  best  of  fathers  !  —  I  Jiave 
reflected — I  have  decided.  Prevarication  wouldj 
on  my  part,  be  base  wickedness.  I  am  sorry  to 
wound,   but  I  cannot  retract." 

"  The  fiat  has  gone  forth,  then,  my  noble  duke," 
said  the  earl,  sorrowfully,  removing  his  hand  from 
the  head  of  his  child  to  the  arm  of  the  suitor  at 
her  feet.  "  Rise  !  the  Lady  Arabella  is  determined 
to  '  make  her  own  path,  and  fling  her  own  shadow 
upon  it ! '  " 

"  We  part  not  in  anger  I  "  said  the  girl,  as  she 
extended  her  hand  to  the  duke,  while  he  was 
in  the  act  of  rising.  "  We  will  henceforth  be 
friends  I " 

As  she  spoke,  one  of  the  blush  roses  in  her  dress 
fell  from  her  bosom  to  the  floor.  The  duke 
caught  it  hastily,  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  and  rushed 
from  her  presence  without  other  reply.  Those 
who  knew  his  proud  and  noble  nature  said  after- 
wards that  "  he  was  crazed  with  unrequited  love." 

The  year  1632  dawned  over  a  band  of  hum- 
ble Pilgrims,  who  had  fled  from  the  old  world, 
and  fixed  their  rude  habitations  in  the  wilds  of 

@  @ 


@  @ 

THE    LADY    PILGRIM.  89 

America.  They  sought  among  savage  hordes  the 
dearest  right  of  man  —  "  Freedom  to  worship 
God." 

Their  rude  cabins  were  built  of  logs,  and  some 
even  dwelt  in  the  caves  of  the  earth.  They  had  left 
behind  them  comforts,  wealth,  friends,  and  ease. 
They  had  gained  by  the  exchange  that  which  was 
priceless  — "  liberty  of  conscience  and  speech." 
Some  of  them  were  hardy,  stalwart  men  —  crea- 
tures of  iron  nerve  and  inflexible  wills ;  but  others 
had  been  reared  in  the  lap  of  luxury,  and  the  chill, 
rough  winds  of  New  England  affected  them  as 
the  early  frost  does  the  spring  flower.  Among  the 
latter  was  the  Lady  Arabella  Johnson,  the  Earl  of 
Lincoln's  idolized  child. 

She  was  a  sunbeam  in  the  dark  ship.  Her 
sweet  voice  might  have  been  heard  all  day  long, 
reading  God's  precious  promises  to  the  aged,  com- 
forting the  sick,  strengthening  the  weak,  and  cheer- 
ing all.  To  her  husband  she  was  emphatically 
"  an  angel  of  mercy."  In  his  saddest  hours,  she 
could  chase  away  the  gloom  which  gathered  over 
his  face ;  her  own  spirit  never  sunk  into  de- 
spondency; no  privation  ever  called  a  murmur 
to  her  lip. 

On  the  12th  of  June,  1630,  the  ship  reached 
the  port  for  which  it  was  bound,  in  Salem,  Massa- 
chusetts. Their  reception  among  the  Pilgrims 
was  a  most  melancholy  one,  for  disease  had  been 
among  the  colonists,  and  many  of  them,  as  they 


90  THE    LADY    PILGRIM. 

welcomed  their  friends,  cried  out,  in  the  touching  - 
language    of  grief,  "  We  have    looked   on   Death 
since  we  met  you  last !  " 

There  was  no  luxurious  table  spread  for  them 
in  the  wilderness  —  no  princely  palace  opening  its 
portals  for  their  reception.  And  yet  again  this 
noble-minded  heroine  murmured  not.  To  the 
poor  and  distressed,  in  the  colony,  her  visits  were 
frequent;  her  sweet  smile,  yea,  merry  laugh, 
gushed  out  like  the  bird's  music  in  spring,  while 
building  its  nest  in  the  warm  sunshine ;  and  yet 
none  doubted  her  piety,  for  she  bore  in  her  very 
looks  the  spirit  of  the  Savior.  But  the  flower  of 
the  Pilgrims  could  not  long  withstand  the  chill 
winds  and  hoarse  blasts  of  a  New  England  cli- 
mate. It  withered  away,  and  the  year  1632  wit- 
nessed its  dissolution. 

Again  it  was  early  morning ;  but  the  sun  looked 
down  upon  no  stately  castle  in  the  wild  woods  of 
the  new  world.  In  a  brown  frame  house,  rendered 
almost  dreary  from  its  secluded  situation,  there 
was  transpiring  one  of  the  most  interesting  of 
earthly  scenes:  a  Christian  was  going  home  to 
God — home  to  that  bright  and  beautiful  world, 
"  where  the  redeemed  walk." 

Her  cheek  was  as  hueless  as  the  pillow  on 
which  it  rested  ;  her  breath  came  short  and  thick ; 
but  her  eyes  had  an  unearthly  lustre,  and  in  the 
weak  tones  of  her  voice  there  was  a  melody  sweet 
as   the   swan's  dying  note.     Through   the  raised 

(O)  -  —  =r.=(0) 


<2) 


''THE    LADY   PILGRIM.  91 

windows  a  soft,  cool  breeze  stole  from  the  bosom 
of  the  placid  ocean,  and  fanned  the  few  auburn 
curls  which  strayed  out  from  beneath  her  cap.  O ! 
in  that  hour  she  seemed  too  beautiful  for  death  — 
too  beautiful  to  be  laid  away  in  the  cold,  dark 
grave,  where  the  worm  revels  on  its  prey. 

The  Pilgrims  were  all  there  —  all  had  come  in 
to  witness  the  visitation  of  that  dread  tyrant,  who 
takes  from  the  arms*  of  affection  its  cherished 
idol.  That  dread  tyrant^  did  I  say  ?  I  meant  not 
thus.  To  the  Christian,  death  is  an  angel  of  mer- 
cy; it  holds  the  key  which  unlocks  the  golden 
gates  of  paradise ;  it  introduces  him  to  the  glori- 
ous company  of  "the  angels  and  just  men  made 
perfect." 

The  eyes  of  the  sufferer  closed  for  a  moment, 
and  her  lips  moved  as  if  in  prayer.  While  thus 
engaged,  an  expression  of  almost  angelic  beauty 
stole  over  her  wasted  features ;  her  blue  eyes  un- 
closed again,  and,  raising  her  arm,  she  wound  it 
around  her  husband's  neck,  and  drew  his  face 
close  to  hers. 

"  Thou  art  very  sorrowful,  my  beloved !  "  she 
said.  "  Why  do  you  mourn  ?  We  weep  not 
when  an  uncaged  bird  seeks  the  blue  of  its  native 
skies  —  when  a  flower  droops  in  our  path  at  noon- 
day, and  withers.  Why  weep  when  a  tired  spirit 
seeks  rest  from  the  tumults  of  this  world  in  the 
bosom  of  its  God  ?  when,  like  the  bird,  it  tries  its 
wing  in  an  upward  flight,  and  rests  at  last  only  in 


=@ 

92  THE    LADY    PILGRIM. 

its  native  skies  ?  Why  weep  that  your  much- 
loved  wife  is  now  to  make  a  most  happy  exchange 
of  worlds  ?  " 

The  form  of  the  strong,  stern  Puritan  seemed 
convulsed  with  internal  agony,  and  he  did  not 
make  reply.  The  sweet  voice  of  his  wife  con- 
tinued :  — 

"  I  have  lived  a  happy  life  —  I  am  dying  a  hap- 
py death.  Most  blissful  has  been  my  fate  I  I 
have  never  made  one  sacrifice  too  many  in  the 
cause  of  Christ.  A  little  while,  and  you,  my  be- 
loved, shall  test  the  truthfulness  of  the  promise 
given  to  those  who  leave  "  father  and  mother, 
houses  and  land,"  for  the  Redeemer's  sake.  Be 
strong  —  be  firm  —  be  deeply  rooted  in  the  faith  ! 
Adieu  !     We  will  meet  soon  in  a  brighter  world." 

And  as  she  spoke,  she  pressed  her  lips  for  the 
last  time  upon  her  husband's  brow.  One  by  one 
the  Puritans  came  up  to  take  her  hand,  and  listen 
to  her  parting  words.  When  this  scene  was  over, 
she  sunk  back  again  upon  her  pillow,  and  closed 
her  eyes.     "  The  bitterness  of  death  had   passed." 

In  the  humble  burying  ground  of  the  Pilgrims 
they  made  her  grave,  and  laid  her  down  with 
prayers  and  tears.  One  heart-broken  mourner 
lingered  long  above  the  marble  brow,  and  kissed 
and  rekissed  the  cold  lips,  before  they  gave  her  to 
the  dust.  In  the  wild  agony  of  his  grief,  he  at 
first  prayed  to  die.  His  prayer,  it  seemed,  was 
signally  answered,  for  he  survived  the  wife  of  his 

@ ■ @l 


=@ 


THE    LADY   PILGRIM.  93 

bosom  but  a  few  months.  They  made  his  mound 
beside  hers,  and  left  them  without  sign  or  stone  to 
mark  their  resting-place. 

Years  afterwards,  there  swept  out  from  one  of 
the  castles  of  the  old  world  a  funeral  pageant. 
There  was  all  the  insignia  of  grief  that  wealth 
could  command.  Long  trains  of  mourners,  richly 
clad  in  black,  passed  through  the  fretted  vaults  and 
long  aisles  of  the  cathedral,  and  paused  at  last  be- 
side a  tomb,  almost  meet  for  the  resting-place  of 
kings. 

The  Duke  of  Devonshire  was  dead,  and  royalty 
paid  his  dust  due  honors.  The  domestics,  left  at 
home  to  superintend  affairs  during  the  absence  of 
the  mourners,  swept  out  from  the  bosom  of  the 
richly-wrought  vestments  the  duke  last  wore  a 
withered  blush  rose.  None  knew  its  history  — 
none  even  noticed  its  fall.  The  heart  near  which 
it  had  so  long  lain  had  ceased  to  beat  forever. 

Miss  C.  W.  Barber. 

JNoiE.  —  "We  have  taken  the  liberty  to  omit  some  portions  of  this 
most  interesting  story,  in  order  to  bring  it  within  the  limits  of  our 
work.  We  trust  the  author  will  excuse  us.  —  Ed.  Life  among  the 
Flowers. 


-^m. 


©-        —  © 


@  @ 

94  GENTILITY. 


GERANIUM. 

Pelargonium. 

Language  —  GENTILITY. 

Harshly  falls 
The  doom  upon  tlie  ear  —  "  She's  not  genteel ! " 
And  pitiless  is  woman  M^ho  doth  keep 
Of  "  good  society  "  the  golden  key  ! 
And  gentlemen  are  bound,  as  are  the  stars, 
To  stoop  not  after  rising. 

Willis. 

But  nature,  with  a  matchless  hand,  sends  forth  her  nobly 

born, 
And  laughs  the  paltry  attributes  of  rank  and  wealth  to 

scorn  ; 
She  moulds  with  care  a  spirit  rare,  half  human,  half 

divine. 
And  cries,  exulting,  "  Who  can  make  a  gentleman  like 

mine  ?  " 

There  are  some  spirits  nobly  just,  unwarped  by  pelf  or 
pride. 

Great  in  the  calm,  and  greater  still  when  dashed  by  ad- 
verse tide ; 

They  hold  the  rank  no  king  can  give,  no  station  can 
disgrace ; 

Nature  puts  forth  her  gentleman,  and  monarchs  must 
give  place. 


©  ©• 


(o)  (S) 

DESPONDENCY.  95 


GERANIUM,  DARK. 

Pelargonium  Triste. 

Language  —  DESPONDENCY. 

Thou  who  silently  art  weeping, 

Thou  of  faded  lip  and  brow, 
Golden  harvests  for  thy  reaping 

Wave  before  thee  even  now. 

Fortune  may  be  false  and  fickle  — 

Should  you,  therefore,  pause  and  weep  ?  — 

Taking  in  thy  hand  the  sickle. 
Enter  in  the  field  and  reap. 

Though  the  garden,  famed  Elysian, 

May  be  shut  from  thee  by  fate, 
Thou  hast  yet  a  holier  mission 

Than  to  linger  at  the  gate. 

Brightest  visions  from  thy  pillow 
'  May  have  vanished  ;  still  thou'rt  blest, 
While  th^waves  of  time's  rough  billows 
Wash  the  shores  of  endless  rest. 

Alice  Caret. 

Sit  down,  sad  soul,  and  count 

The  moments  flying: 
Come,  tell  the  sad  amount 

That's  lost  by  sighing. 
How  many  smiles  ?    A  score  ? 
Then  laugh  and  count  no  more, 

For  day  is  dying!  tenxtsox. 

©■  -(Q) 


@: 


96 


PREFERENCE. 


GERANIUM,  ROSE. 

Pelargonium  Capitatum. 

Language— PREFERENCE. 

Hp:  says  he  loves  my  daughter ; 
I  think  so  too  ;  for  never  gazed  the  moon 
Upon  the  water,  as  he'll  stand  and  read, 
As  'twere  my  daughter's  eyes :  and  to  be  plain, 
I  think  there  is  not  half  a  kiss  to  choose, 
Who  loves  another  best. 

SlIAKSPEAKE. 


Thy  choice,  gentle  maiden ! 

'Tis  thine,  thine  alone  : 
The  leaflet  dew  laden, 

The  sun-illumed  stone ! 

The  one  is  the  offer 

Of  power  and  pride. 
With  gold  in  his  coffer. 

And  gems  for  his  bride. 
• 
The  other,  a  token 

From  passion  and  truth, 
The  pure  and  unbroken, 

The  love  of  thy  youth. 

She  falters  —  though  cruel, 
^     The  struggle  is  brief  — 
She  clasps  not  the  jewel  — 
The  tear-laden  leaf. 


Mrs.  Osgood. 


@= 


CONSOLATION. 


:© 


97 


(b^ 


GERANIUM,  SCARLET. 

Pelargmiium  Inquinans. 

Language  —  CONSOLATION. 

Look  how  the  gray  old  ocean 

From  the  depth  of  his  heart  rejoices, 
Heaving  with  a  gentle  motion, 

When  he  hears  our  restful  voices  ; 
List,  how  he  sings  in  an  undertone. 

Chiming  with  our  melody  ; 
And  there,  where  the  smooth,  wet  pebbles  be. 

The  waters  gurgle  longingly. 
As  if  they  fain  would  seek  the  shore. 
To  be  at  rest  from  the  ceaseless  roar, 
To  be  at  rest  for  evermore. 

Thus  on  life's  gloomy  sea, 

Heareth  the  mariner 

Voices  sweet  from  far  and  near. 

Ever  singing  in  his  ear, 

"  Here  is  rest  and  peace  for  thee  ! " 

J.  R^LowELL  — The  Sirens. 

There  is  no  sunshine  that  hath  not  its  shade. 
Nor  shadow  that  the  sunshine  hath  not  made  ; . 
There  is  no  cherished  comfort  of  the  heart 
That  doth  not  own  its  tearful  counterpart. 

Thus,  through  a  perfect  balance,  constant  flow 
The  sharp  extremes  of  joy  and  those  of  woe ; 
Our  sweetest,  best  repose  results  from  strife. 
And  death  —  what  is  it,  after  all,  but  life  ? 


^ 


98 


RECALL. 


GERANIUM,  SILVER-LEArED. 

Pelargonium  Argentifolium, 

Language  —  RECALL. 

O'er  the  far  blue  mountain, 
O'er  the  white  sea  foam, 

Come,  thou  long-parted  one, 
Back  to  thy  home. 

Where  the  bright  fire  shineth. 

Sad  looks  thy  place, 
"While  the  true  heart  pineth, 

Missing  thy  face. 

Music  is  sorrowful 
Since  thou  art  gone ; 

Sisters  are  mourning  thee; 
Come  to  thy  own. 

Hark !   the  home  voices  call 

Back  to  thy  rest ; 
Come  to  thy  father's  hall. 

Thy  mother's  breast. 

O'er  the  far  blue  mountain. 
O'er  the  white  sea  foam. 

Come,  thou  long-parted  one, 
Back  to  thy  home. 


Mrs.  Hemans. 


# 


LIFE    IS    SWEET.  99 


LIFE   IS    SWEET. 

It  was  a  summer's  morning.  I  was  awakened 
by  the  rushing  of  a  distant  engine,  bearing  along 
a  tide  of  men  to  their  busy  day  in  the  great  city. 
Cool  sea  breezes  stole  through  the  pine  trees  em- 
bowering my  dwelling ;  the  aromatic  pines  breathed 
out  their  ready  music ;  the  hummingbird  was 
fluttering  over  the  honeysuckle  at  my  window  ; 
the  grass  glittered  with  dewdrops.  A  maiden 
was  coming  from  the  dairy  across  the  lawn,  with 
a  silver  mug  of  new  milk  in  her  hand ;  by  the 
other  hand  she  led  a  child.  The  young  woman 
was  in  the  full  beauty  of  ripened  and  perfept 
womanhood.  Her  step  was  elastic  and  vigorous  ; 
moderate  labor  had  developed  without  impairing 
her  fine  person.  I  thought,  "  How  sweet  is  life  to 
this  girl !  "  as,  respected  and  respecting,  she  sus- 
tains her  place  in  domestic  life,  distilling  her  pure 
influences  into  the  little  creature  she  holds  by  the 
hand !  And  how  sweet,  then,  was  life  to  that 
child !  Her  little  form  was  so  erect  and  strong  — • 
so  firmly  knit  to  outward  life  —  her  step  so  free 
and  joyous !  —  her  fair,  bright  hair,  so  bright  that 
it  seemed  as  if  a  sunbeam  came  from  it :  it  lay 
parted  on  that  brow,  where  an  infinite  capacity 
had  set  its  seal.  And  that  spirited  eye  —  so 
quickly  perceiving  —  so  eagerly  exploring  !  and 
those    sweet  red   lips  —  love,   and    laughter,   and 

(g) 


© 

100  LIFE   IS    SWEET. 


beauty  are  there.  Now  she  snatches  a  tuft  of 
flowers  from  the  grass ;  now  she  springs  to  meet 
her  playmate,  the  young,  frisky  dog;  and  now  she 
is  shouting  playfully:  he  has  knocked  her  over, 
and  they  are  rolling  on  the  turf  together.  Before 
three  months  passed  away,  she  had  laid  down  the 
beautiful  garments  of  her  mortality ;  she  had  en- 
tered the  gates  of  immortal  life  ;  and  those  who 
followed  her  to  its  threshold  felt  that  to  the  end, 
and  in  the  end,  her  ministry  had  been  most  sweet. 
"  Life  is  sweet  "  to  the  young,  with  their  unfath- 
omable hopes  —  their  unlimited  imaginings.  It  is 
sweeter  still  with  the  varied  realization.  Heaven 
has  provided  the  ever-changing  loveliness  and  mys- 
terious process  of  the  outward  world  in  the  inspi- 
rations of  art ;  in  the  excitement  of  magnanimous 
deeds ;  in  the  close  knitting  of  affections ;  in  the 
joys  of  the  mother,  the  toils  and  harvest  of  the 
father;  in  the  countless  blessings  of  hallowed 
domestic   life. 

"Life  is. sweet"  to  the  seeker  of  wisdom,  and 
to  the  lover  of  science  ;  and  all  progress  and  each 
discovery  is  a  joy  to  them. 

"  Life  is  sweet "  to  the  true  lovers  of  their  race  ; 
and  the  unknown  and  unpraised  good  they  do  by 
word,  or  look,  or  deed,  is  joy  ineffable. 

But  not  alone  to  the  wise,  to  the  learned,  to  the 
young,  to  the  healthful,  to  the  gifted,  to  the  happy, 
to  the  vigorous  doer  of  good,  is  life  sweet :  for  the 
patient  sufferer  it  has  a  divine  sweetness. 

@  @ 


@  @ 

LIFE    IS    SWEET.  101 

"  What,"  I  asked  a  friend,  who  had  been  on  a 
delicious  country  excursion,  "  did  you  see  that 
best  pleased  you?" 

My  friend  has  cultivated  her  love  of  moral  more 
than  her  perception  of  physical  beauty,  and  I  was 
not  surprised  when,  after  replying,  she  went  on  to 
say,  "  My  cousin  took  me  to  see  a  man  who  had 
been  a  clergyman  in  the  Methodist  connection. 
He  had  suffered  from  a  nervous  rheumatism,  and 
from  a  complication  of  diseases,  aggravated  by 
ignorant  drugging.  Every  muscle  in  his  body,  ex- 
cept those  which  move  his  eyes  and  tongue,  is 
paralyzed.  His  body  has  become  as  rigid  as  iron. 
His  limbs  have  lost  the  human  form.  He  has  not 
lain  on  a  bed  for  seven  years.  He  suffers  acute 
pain.  He  has  invented  a  chair  which  affords  him 
some  alleviation.  His  feelings  are  fresh  and  kind- 
ly, and  his  mind  is  unimpaired.  He  reads  con- 
stantly. His  book  is  fixed  in  a  frame  before 
him,  and  he  manages  to  turn  the  leaves  with  an 
instrument  which  he  moves  with  his  tongue. 
He  has  an  income  of  thirty  dollars!  This  pit- 
tance, by  the  vigilant  economy  of  his  wife,  and 
some  aid  from  his  kind  rustic  neighbors,  bring  the 
year  round.  His  wife  is  the  most  gentle,  patient, 
and  devoted  of  loving  nurses.  She  never  has  too 
much  to  do  to  do  all  well ;  no  wish  or  thought 
goes  beyond  the  unvarying  circle  of  her  con- 
jugal duty.  Her  love  is  as  abounding  as  his 
wants  —  her    cheerfulness   as   sure   as    the   rising 

@  © 


@  @ 

102  '  LIFE    IS    SWEET. 

sun.  She  has  not  for  years  slept  two  hours  con- 
secutively. 

"  I  did  not  know  which  most  to  reverence,  his 
patience  or  hers ;  and  so  1  said  to  them.  '  Ah,' 
said  the  good  man,  with  a  serene  smile,  '  life  is 
still  sweet  to  me ;  how  can  it  but  be  so  with  such 
a  wife?'" 

And  surely  life  is  sweet  to  her  who  feels  every 
hour  of  the  day  the  truth  of  this  gracious  ac- 
knowledgment. 

O,  ye  who  live  amidst  alternate  sunshine  and 
showers  of  plenty,  to  whom  night  brings  sleep 
and  daylight  freshness  —  ye  murmurers  and  com- 
plainers  who  fret  in  the  harness  of  life  till  it  gall 
you  to  the  bone — who  recoil  at  the  lightest  bur- 
den, and  shrink  from  a  passing  cloud  —  consider 
the  magnanimous  sufferer  my  friend  described, 
and  learn  the  divine  art  that  can  distil  sweetness 
from  the  bitterest  cup ! 

Miss  Catharine  M.  Sedowick. 


@  @ 


=__=(o) 

HOPE.  103 


HAWTHORN.  i 

CratcBgus. 
Language  — HOPE. 

Her  precious  pearl,  in  sorrow's  cup 

Unnoticed  at  the  bottom  lay, 
To  shine  again,  when,  all  drunk  up, 

The  bitterness  should  pass  away. 

MOOKK. 

A  golden  cage  of  sunbeams 

Half  down  a  rainbow  hung  ; 
And  sweet  therein  a  golden  bird 

The  whole  bright  morning  sung ! 
The  winged  shapes  around  it  flew, 

Enchanted  as  they  heard ; 
It  was  the  bird  of  Hope,  my  love  ; 

It  was  Hope's  golden  bird. 

And  ever  of  to-morrow 

The  siren  song  began  ; 
Ah,  what  on  earth  so  musical 

As  hope  and  love  to  man  ? 
I  listened,  thinking  still  of  thee, 

And  of  thy  promised  word  ; 
It  was  the  bird  of  Hope,  ray  love  ; 

It  was  Hope's  golden  bird. 

Avoir. 


©  @ 


@ 

104  CALUMNY. 


HELLEBORE. 

HelM)orus  JSTiger. 

Language  —  CALUMNY. 

My  dark-eyed  darling,  don't  you  know, 

If  you  were  homely,  cold,  or  stupid, 
Unbent  for  you  were  Slander's  bow  ? 

Ifer  shafts  but  follo^  those  of  Cupid. 
Dear  child  of  genius,  strike  the  lyre, 

And  drown  with  melody  delicious. 
Soft  answering  to  your  touch  of  fire. 

The  envious  hint,  the  sneer  malicious. 

Remember  it  is  music's  law, 

Each  pure,  true  note,  though  low  you  sound  it, 
Is  heard  through  discord's  wildest  war 

Of  rage  and  madness  storming  round  it. 
Serenely  go  your  glorious  way, 

Secure  that  every  footstep  onward 
Will  lead  you  from  their  haunts  away, 

Since  you  go  up,  and  they  go  —  dowjiward. 

Mes.  Osgood. 

I  know  that  slander  loves  a  lofty  mark  ; 
It  saw  her  soar  a  flight  above  her  fellows. 
And  hurled  its  arrow  to  her  glorious  height, 
To  reach  as  high,  and  bring  her  to  the  ground. 

Miss  H.  Moke. 


©= 


DEVOTION.  105 


HELIOTROPE. 

Heliotropium, 

Language  —  DEVOTION. 

You  took  me,  William,  when  a  girl, 

Unto  your  home  and  heart. 
To  bear  in  all  your  after  fate 

A  fond  and  faithful  part : 
And  tell  me,  have  I  ever  tried 

That  duty  to  forego.'' 
Or  w£is  there  ever  joy  for  me 

When  you  were  sunk  in  woe  ? 
No  :  I  would  rather  share  i/our  tear 

Than  any  other's  glee  ; 
For  though  you're  nothing  to  the  world, 

You're  all  the  world  to  me. 

Airoir. 

Nay,  do  not  ask  —  entreat  not  —  no, 

O  no,  I  will  not  leave  thy  side  ; 
Whither  thou  goest,  I  will  go, 

Where  thou  abidest,  I'll  abide. 
Through  life  —  in  death  —  my  soul  to  thine 

Shall  cleave  as  first  it  clave ; 
Thy  home,  thy  people  shall  be  mine. 

Thy  God  my  God,  thy  grave  my  grave. 

K.  H.  Wild. 

Adah.     Alas!  thou  sinnest  now,  my  Cain  ;  thy  words 

Sound  impious  in  mine  ears. 
Cain.     Then  leave  me  ! 
Adah.     Never, 

Though  thy  God  left  thee.  btbon's  caik.       _ 

@  '  © 


@  -@ 

106  SHORT-LIVED    BEAUTY. 


HIBISCUS. 

Hibiscus  Vesicarius. 
Language  —  SHORT-LIVED  BEAUTY. 

Go,  lovely  rose, 
Tell  her  that  wastes  her  time  on  me. 

That  now  she  knows, 
When  I  resemble  her  to  thee. 
How  sweet  and  fair  she  seems  to  be. 

Then  die,  that  she 
The  common  fate  of  all  things  rare 

May  read  in  thee  ; 
How  small  a  part  of  time  they  share. 
That  are  so  wondrous  sweet  and  fair. 

Yet,  though  thou  fade, 
From  thy  dead  leaves  let  fragrance  rise, 

And  teach  the  maid 
That  goodness  time's  rude  hand  defies ; 
That  virtue  lives  when  beauty  dies. 

Wallek. 

Beautiful !    Yes  ;  but  the  blush  will  fade. 

The  light  grow  dim  which  the  blue  eyes  wear. 
The  gloss  will  vanish  from  curl  and  braid. 

And  the  sunbeam  die  in  the  waving  hair. 
Turn,  turn  from  the  mirror,  and  strive  to  win 

Treasures  of  loveliness  still  to  last ; 
Gather  earth's  glory  and  bloom  within. 

That  the  soul  may  be  bright  when  youth  is  past. 

Mrs.  Osgood. 
@  -  @ 


FIDELITY.  107 


HONEYSUCKLE. 

Lonicera. 

Language  —FIDELITY. 

Be  true  to  me ! 
Be  as  the  star  that  burns 
Calm  and  unchanged  in  the  midnight  air, 
When  unto  thee  my  wearied  spirit  turns 

For  sweet  repose  from  all  the  storms  of  care  : 
Be  true  to  me  ! 

Be  true  to  me ! 
Not  always  may  the  bloom 
Of  hope  and  gladness  on  my  cheeks  remain ; 
And  when   dark   thoughts   shall  shade  my  soul  with 
gloom, 
Thy  tender  accents  still  may  soothe  its  pain : 
Be  true  to  me ! 

Akos 
ANSWER. 

I  do  not  promise  that  our  life 

Shall  know  no  shade  on  heart  or  brow ; 
For  human  lot  and  mortal  strife 

"Would  mock  the  falsehood  of  such  vow. 
But  when  the  clouds  of  pain  and  care 

Shall  teach  us  we  are  not  divine, 
My  deepest  sorrows  thou  shalt  share, 

And  I  will  strive  to  lighten  thine. 

Eliza  Cook. 

If  we  love  one  another,  \ 

Nothing,  in  truth,  can  harm  us,  whatever 

Mischances  may  happen.  lokofkllow. 

©  © 


108  INCONSTANCY. 


HONEYSUCKLE,  WILD.       . 
Azalea  Procumbens, 
Language —INCONSTANCY. 

Inconstant  !  are  the  waters  so, 

That  fall  in  showers  on  hill  and  plain, 
Then,  tired  of  what  they  find  below, 

Ride  on  the  sunbeams  back  again  ? 
Pray,  are  there  changes  in  the  sky. 

The  winds,  or  in  our  summer  weather  ? 
In  sudden  change  believe  me,  I 

Will  beat  both  clouds  and  winds  together : 
Nothing  in  air  or  earth  may  be 
Fit  type  of  my  inconstancy. 

Anow. 

My  heart  too  firmly  trusted,  fondly  gave 

Itself  to  all  its  tenderness  a  slave  ; 

I  had  no  wish  but  thee,  and  only  thee : 

I  knew  no  happiness  but  only  while 

Thy  love-lit  eyes  were  kindly  turned  on  me.  i 

Pebcival. 

Holy  St.  Francis  !  what  a  change  is  here ! 
Is  Rosalind,  whom  thou  dost  hold  so  dear, 
So  soon  forsaken  ?     Young  men's  love,  then,  lies 
Not  truly  in  their  hearts,  but  in  their  eyes. 

Shakspeake. 


©  ® 


@ 

HEARTLESSNESS.  109 


HYDRANGEA. 

Hydrangea  Hortensis. 

Language  —  HEAKTLESSNESS. 

With  every  pleasing,  every  prudent  part, 
Say,  what  can  Chloe  want  ?    She  wants  a  heart. 
She  speaks,  behaves,  and  acts  just  as  she  ought, 
But  never,  never  reached  one  generous  thought ; 
Virtue  she  finds  too  painful  an  endeavor, 
Content  to  dwell  in  decencies  forever. 
So  very  reasonable,  so  unmoved, 
As  never  yet  to  love,  or  to  be  loved. 


Pops. 


I  live  among  the  cold,  the  false, 

And  I  must  seem  like  them ; 
And  such  I  am,  for  I  am  false 

As  these  I  most  condemn  : 
I  teach  my  lip  its  sweetest  smile. 

My  tongue  its  softest  tone  ; 
I  borrow  others'  likeness,  till 

I  almost  lose  my  own. 

On  thy  forehead  sitteth  Pride, 
Crowned  with  scorn,  and  falcon-eyed  ; 
But  beneath,  methinks,  thou  twinest 
Silken  smiles  that  seem  divinest. 
Can  such  smiles  be  false  and  cold  ? 
Canst  thou  —  wilt  thou  wed  for  gold  ? 


BABET  COBKWALt. 


@  ■  © 


©  @ 

110  A   NEW   year's    colloquy   WITH   TIME. 


A  NEW  YEAR'S  COLLOQUY  WITH  TIME. 

Eleven  o'clock  at  night!  But  another  hour, 
and  all  that  remains  of  the  present  year  will  have 
been  borne  upon  the  tireless  wing  of  Father  Time 
into  the  great  gulf  of  eternity  ;  and  the  old  fellow 
will  have  turned  up  his  glass  again,  ground  his 
scythe,  and  laid  hold  of  the  new  year ;  prepared 
to  roll  it  onward,  evolving  the  future  from  the 
lapse  of  every  moment,  until  he  shall  see  it  safely 
deposited  in  the  great  grave  of  the  past,  which 
swallows  all  things. 

*'  Thou  art  a  jolly  old  fellow.  Father  Time ! 
Give  us  thy  hand,  and  ere  the  bright  sun  of  the 
first  morning  of  the  new  year  shines  cheerfully 
over  the  grave  of  its  departed  brother,  let  us  be  a 
little  sociable,  and  talk  of  the  past.  Do  not  be 
crusty ;  you  need  not  stop  in  your  onward  march. 
I  myself  am  somewhat  of  a  traveller,  and  will 
walk  an  hour  with  you;  only  keep  that  con- 
founded old  scythe  out  of  the  way,  which,  since 
I  first  saw  it  pictured  upon  the  cover  of  the 
Farmer's  Almanac,  along  with  the  matter-of-fact 

couplet,  — 

Time  cuts  down  all, 
Both  great  and  small,"  — 

I  nevef  could  look  at  without  shuddering. 

"Thou  hast  visited  all  countries  and  all  climes  ; 
thou  hast  been  in  strange  lands,  and  beheld  many 

@  @ 


—  — @ 

A   NEW   year's    colloquy    WITH    TIME.  Ill 

strange  and  wondrous  things ;  thou  hast  kept 
on  thy  way  untiring  —  hast  passed  over  the  great 
city,  and  left  messages  of  joy  or  sorrow  to  millions 
of  the  sons  of  men.  Thou  hast  frosted  the  heads 
of  the  aged,  cut  down  beauty  in  its  bloom,  and 
blighted  earth's  fairest  flowers.  Thou  hast  brought 
poverty  into  the  dwellings  of  affluence ;  thou 
hast  by  thy  movements  brought  distrust  into 
friendly  bosoms,  and  thou  hast  separated  families. 
Thou  hast  brought  about  the  utterance  of  the  first 
unkind  word  between  those  who  had  promised  to 
love  each  other  ever ;  thou  hast  led  the  youth 
onward  to  his  first  act  of  wickedness  and  sin,  and 
the  maiden  rashly  to  forsake  the  dwelling  of  her 
childhood  —  the  merchant  to  the  verge  of  bank- 
ruptcy, and  from  thence  to  ruin,  and  to  death  ; 
thou  hast  plunged  the  man  of  crime  still  deeper 
into  the  abyss  of  iniquity  —  caused  children  to 
weep  over  the  death  of  their  parents,  and  parents 
for  the  departure  of  their  children.  Thou  hast 
done  all  these  things,  old  Time ;  and  novvr,  what 
canst  thou  say  for  thyself?  Hast  done  any  good, 
old  fellow  ?  any  thing  for  which  we  shall  commend 
thee,  or  which  shoLild  make  us  hail  thy  presence 
with  gladness  ?  " 

"  Mortal,  listen  I "  said  Time.  "  God  is  good, 
and  to  perform  his  will  am  I  sent  to  the  earth. 
'Tis  to  work  out  the  designs  of  his  good  provi- 
dence, that  I  wend  my  way  hither  and  thither 
over  this  little  globe  of  yours.     True,  I  have  frosted 


112  A   NEW   year's    colloquy    WITH    TIME. 

the  heads  of  the  aged,  but  the  aged  good  man 
fears  not  Time.  He  who  has  spent  his  whole  life 
in  deeds  of  active  benevolence  and  kindness,  ben- 
efiting his  fellow-men,  knows  that  his  gray  hairs 
are  a  crown  of  honor,  and  that  it  becomes  him, 
even  as  the  crown  which  he  shall  wear  in  paradise 
as  a  reward  for  a  life  of  righteousness  here.  True, 
I  have  cut  down  beauty  in  its  bloom  ;  but  for 
what,  think  you  ?  to  gratify  a  malignant  spirit  ?  O, 
no !  there  are  mortals  here  who_seem  all  too  good 
to  be  the  inhabitants  of  such  a  dwelling-place  as 
this  earth,  and  I  have  but  translated  th^m  to  a 
brighter  land,  where  the  spirits  of  the  pure  and 
good  —  the  just  made  perfect  —  will  forever  dwell. 

"  I  have  blasted  the  loveliest  flowers,  say  you  ? 
Not  so.  In  the  gardens  of  paradise  they  bloom 
again  with  more  than  their  earthly  freshness  and 
beauty.  Purity  and  goodness  should  not  be  scat- 
tered upon  the  cold  winds  of  ingratitude  and 
wrong,  without  a  shelter,  and  without  a  fitting 
home :  of  such  is  composed  the  kingdom  of 
heaven ;  and  nurtured  by  its  dews,  and  warmed 
by  the  smiles  which  beam  from  the  throne  of  mer- 
cy, they  grow  and  expand  until  they  become  like 
the  angelic  beings  they  so  much  resemble. 

"  I  have  brought  poverty  into  the  dwellings  of 
affluence,  but  to  serve  a  good  end.  To  the  rich 
man,  who  loved  his  gold  better  than  his  God,  I 
have  taught  a  lesson ;  I  have  shown  him  the 
frailty   of    human    hopes,    and  the   instability   of 

© 


(o)  @ 

A    NEW    year's    colloquy    WITH    TIME.  113 

human  things.  In  the  low-roofed  cottage  has  the 
poor  man  found  that  happiness  and  peace  of  mind 
which  passeth  all  understanding,  which  he  sought 
in  vain  to  find  amid  the  glitter  of  wealth  and  the 
pride  of  station.  Hast  thou  not  read  that  it  is 
easier  for  a  camel  to  enter  a  needle's  eye  than  for 
a  rich  man  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ?  and 
blamest  thou  me  that  I  have  stripped  him  of  the 
vile  clogs  that  weigh  down  his  immortal  spirit  to 
the  earth  ? 

"  Thou  sayest  that  I  have  brought  distrust  into 
friendly  bosoms ;  that  I  have  separated  families, 
and  caused  unkind  words  to  be  spoken.  Look  at 
the  bright  side  of  the  picture :  alas  for  your  hu- 
man nature !  which,  since  the  days  of  your  good 
mother  Eve,  has  delighted  to  place  the  burden 
upon  the  wrong  shoulders.  Think  how  my  soft- 
ening touch  has  quieted  old  feuds,  and  silenced 
old  animosities,  forever.  Think  how  my  old  fin- 
gers have  rubbed  away  long  scores  of  hate  and 
ingratitude ;  how  I  have  warmed  hearts  callous  to 
all  feelings  of  affection,  and  caused  them  to  glow 
again  with  the  fires  of  friendship  and  love.  I 
have  led  the  x^^^^  onward  to  wickedness  and 
crime,  and  the  maiden  rashly  to  forsake  the  home 
of  her  childhood  ;  but  think  how  many  I  have 
brought  to  see  the  evil  of  their  ways,  and  turned 
from  the  path  which  leads  to  perdition.  Think 
how  many  youthful  hearts  are  made  wise  unto 
salvation  by  bitter  experience,  and  how  many 
©-  -@ 


@  — @j 

114  A   NEW   year's    colloquy   WITH   TIME. 

repentant  erring  ones  are  seeking  at  the  only  place 
for  forgiveness,  and  atoning  for  the  past  by  a  life 
of  rectitude  and  virtue. 

''  Think,  too,  while  ye  would  seek  cause  to  com- 
plain of  me,  how  little  ye  know :  think  of  all  the 
gladness  and  joy  which  I  bring  to  men's  hearts. 
Children  are  born  into  the  world,  and  O,  what  an 
inexpressible  flood  of  delight  rushes  through  the 
parent's  heart,  as  he  traces  in  imagination  the  dim, 
distant  future !  and  how  are  his  days  and  nights 
filled  with  blissful  hopes  of  seeing  them  live  and 
grow  up  around  him,  to  cheer  and  to  bless  his  later 
years !  If  I  draw  wrinkles  upon  the  brow  of  age, 
I  cause  the  roses  to  bloom  brighter  upon  beauty's 
cheek.  If  I  destroy,  I  also  make  alive.  If  I 
brush  into  oblivion  some  records  of  the  past,  I  go 
with  the  man  who  searcheth  after  knowledge,  and 
from  my  age  and  experience,  his  own  soul  is  ex- 
panded, and  he  becomes  a  blessing  to  his  race." 

Just  so  far  had  Time  spoken  when  the  clock 
struck  twelve  ;  and  with  the  determination  to  profit 
by  his  teachings,  I  wished  him  a  Happy  New 
Year,  and  fell  asleep.  j^^^^^^ 


■^©1=^ 


d  =@ 


@  @ 

FRIGIDITY.  115 


ICE  PLANT. 

Mesembryanthemum. 

Language  —  FRIGIDITY. 

Thy  beauty  —  not  a  fault  is  there  ; 

No  queen  of  Grecian  line 
E'er  braided  more  luxuriant  hair 

O'er  forehead  more  divine  ; 
The  light  of  midnight's  starry  heaven 

Is  in  those  radiant  eyes ; 
The  rose's  crimson  life  has  given 

That  cheek  its  glowing  dyes  ; 
And  yet  I  love  thee  not :  thy  brow 

Is  but  the  sculptor's  mould : 
It  wants  a  shade  ;  it  wants  a  glow ; 

It  is  less  fair  than  cold. 


Miss  Landoit. 


And  underneath  that  face,  like  summer's  oceans, 
Its  lip  as  moveless,  and  its  cheek  as  clear, 

Slumbers  a  whirlwind  of  the  heart's  emotions  — 
Love,  hatred,  pride,  hope,  sorrow  —  all  save  fear. 


Better  the  tie  at  once  be  broken, 
At  once  our  last  farewell  be  spoken, 
Than  watch  him,  one  by  one  destroy 
The  glowing  buds  of  hope  and  joy  — 
Than  thus  to  see  them,  day  by  day. 
Beneath  his  coldness  fade  away. 


Mbs.  Osgood. 


@  =^^ 


@  — @  I 

116  FRIENDSHIP.  I 


IVY. 

Hedera. 

Language  —  ERIENDSHIP. 

Friendship!  mysterious  cement  of  the  soul ! 
Sweetener  of  life,  and  solder  of  society  ! 
I  owe  thee  much.     Thou  hast  deserved  of  me 
Far,  far  beyond  what  I  can  ever  pay. 
Oft  have  I  proved  the  labors  of  thy  love, 
And  the  warm  eflforts  of  a  gentle  heart. 
Anxious  to  please. 

Blais. 

What  though  on  Love's  altar  the  flame  that  is  glowing 

Is  brighter  ?  yet  Friendship's  is  steadier  far ! 
One  wavers  and  turns  with  each  breeze  that  is  blowing, 
And  is  but  a  meteor  —  the  other  's  a  star  ! 
In  youth  Love's  light 
Burns  warm  and  bright. 
But  dies  ere  the  winter  of  age  be  past ; 
While  Friendship's  flame 
Burns  ever  the  same, 
And  glows  but  the  brighter,  the  nearer  its  last ! 

O,  let  mi/  friendship  in  the  wreath. 
Though  but  a  bud  among  the  flowers, 

Its  sweetest  fragrance  round  thee  breathe  — 
'Twill  serve  to  soothe  thy  weary  hours. 

Mbs.  Wblbt. 


=© 


& 


AMIABILITY. 


^@ 


117 


JASMINE. 

Jasminum. 

Language  —  AMIABILITY. 

The  blessings  of  her  quiet  life 

Fell  on  us  like  the  dew  ; 
And  good  thoughts,  where  her  footstep  pressed, 

Like  fair  J  blossoms  grew. 

Sweet  promptings  unto  kindest  deeds 

Were  in  her  very  look  ; 
We  read  her  face  as  one  who  reads 

A  true  and  holy  book. 

\ 
The  pleasure  of  a  blessed  hymn 

To  which  our  hearts  could  move. 

The  breathing  of  an  inward  psalm, 

A  canticle  of  love. 


And  we  talked  —  0,  how  we  talked !  her  voice,  so  cadenced 
in  the  talking, 

Made  another  singing  —  of  the  soul!  a  music  without 
bars  — 

While  the  leafy  sounds  of  woodlands,  humming  round 
where  we  were  walking, 

Brought  interposition  worthy  —  sweet  —  as  skies  about 
the  stars. 

And  she  spake  such  good  thoughts  natural,  as  if  she  al- 
ways thought  them. 

Miss  Baeeett. 


©-- 


^@ 


@ 

118  EXCELLENCE. 


JAPONICA. 

Japonica  Alba. 

Language  —  EXCELLENCE. 

View  them  near 
At  home,  where  all  their  worth  and  power  is  placed 

And  there  their  hospitable  fires  burn  clear, 
And  there  the  lowest  farm-house  hearth  is  graced 

With  manly  hearts  in  piety  sincere  ; 
Faithful  in  love,  in  honor  stern  and  chaste. 

In  friendship  warm  and  true,  in  danger  brave. 

Beloved  in  life,  and  sainted  in  the  grave. 


Halleck. 


What,  my  soul,  was  thy  errand  here  ? 

Was  it  mirth,  or  ease. 
Or  heaping  up  dust  from  year  to  year  ? 

"  Nay,  none  of  these  !  " 
Speak,  soul,  aright,  in  His  holy  sight 

Whose  eye  looks  still 
And  steadily  on  thee  through  the  night : 

«  To  do  His  will !  " 


Whittikb. 


A  life  of  honor  and  of  worth 
Has  no  eternity  on  earth  ; 

'Tis  but  a  name  — 
And  yet  its  glory  far  exceeds 
That  base  and  sensual  life  which  leads 

To  want  and  shame. 


LOjrOFELLOW. 


© —  -  (o) 

IS    MY   AFFECTION   RETURNED.  119 


JONQUIL. 

JYardssus   Jonquilla. 

Language  — IS   MY  AFFECTION  RETURNED? 

0  LADY,  there  be  many  things 
That  seem  right  fair  above  ; 

But  sure  not  one  among  them  all 
Is  half  so  sweet  as  love  : 

Let  us  not  pay  our  vows  alone, 

But  join  two  altars  into  one. 


O.  W.  Holmes. 


And  canst  thou  not  accord  thy  heart 

In  unison  with  mine  ? 
AVhose  language  thou  alone  hast  heard 

Thou  only  canst  divine. 


EuFus  Damtes. 

'Twas  then  the  blush  suffused  her  cheek, 
Which  told  what  words  could  never  speak  ; 
The  answer's  written  deeply  now 
On  this  warm  cheek  and  glowing  brow. 

—  L.  M.  Davidson. 

And  had  he  not  long  read 
The  heart's  hushed  secret,  in  the  soft  dark  eye 
Lighted  at  his  approach,  and  on  the  cheek. 
Coloring  all  crimson  at  his  lightest  look  ? 

L.  E,  Landox. 


©^  @ 


(5) 

120  THE    BROKEN   HEART. 


THE  BROKEN   HEART. 

'  "  I  never  heard 

Of  any  true  affection,  but  'twas  nipped 

With  care,  that,  like  the  caterpillar,  eats 

The  leaves  of  the  spring's  sweetest  book,  the  rose." 

Middleton. 

It  is  a  common  practice  with  those  who  have 
outlived  the  susceptibility  of  early  feeling,  or  have 
been  brought  up  in  the  gay  heartlessness  of  dissi- 
pated life,  to  laugh  at  all  love  stories,  and  to  treat 
the  tales  of  romantic  passion  as  mere  fictions  of 
novelists  and  poets.  My  observations  on  human 
nature  have  induced  me  to  think  otherwise. 
They  have  convinced  me  that  however  the  surface 
of  character  may  be  chilled  and  frozen  by  the 
cares  of  the  world,  or  cultivated  into  mere  smiles 
by  the  arts  of  society,  still  there  are  dormant  fires 
lurking  in  the  depths  of  the  coldest  bosom,  which, 
when  once  enkindled,  become  impetuous,  and  are 
sometimes  desolating  in  their  effects.  Indeed,  I 
am  a  true  believer  in  the  blind  deity,  and  go  to  the 
full  extent  of  his  doctrines.  Shall  I  confess  it?  — 
I  believe  in  broken  hearts,  and  the  possibility  of 
dying  of  disappointed  love.  I  do  not,  however, 
consider  it  a  malady  often  fatal  to  my  own  sex  ; 
but  I  firmly  believe  that  it  withers  down  many  a 
lovely  woman  into  an   early  grave. 

Man  is  the  creature  of  interest  and  ambition. 
His  nature  leads  him  forth  into  the  struggle  and 


=@ 


THE    BROKEN    HEART.  121 

bustle  of  the  world.  Love  is  but  the  embellish- 
ment of  his  earFy  life,  or  a  song  piped  in  the  inter- 
vals df  the  acts.  He  seeks  for  fame,  for  fortune, 
for  space  in  the  world's  thought,  and  domination 
over  his  fellow-men.  But  a  woman's  whole  life  is 
a  history  of  the  affections.  The  heart  is  her 
world;  it  is  there  her  avarice  seeks  for  hidden 
treasures.  She  sends  forth  her  sympathies  on  ad- 
venture ;  she  embarks  her  whole  soul  in  the  traffic 
of  affection,  and  if  shipwrecked  her  case  is  hope- 
less —  for  it  is  a  bankruptcy  of  the  heart. 

To  a  man  the  disappointment  of  love  may  oc- 
casion some  bitter  pangs ;  it  wounds  some  feel- 
ings of  tenderness  —  it  blasts  some  prospects  of 
felicity  ;  but  he  is  an  active  being  ^—  he  may  dissi- 
pate his  thoughts  in  the  whirl  of  varied  occupa- 
tion, or  may  plunge  into  the  tide  of  pleasure  ;  or, 
if  the  scene  of  disappointment  be  too  full  of  pain- 
ful associations,  he  can  shift  his  abode  at  will,  and 
taking  as  it  were  the  wings  of  the  morning,  can  "fly 
to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  and  be  at  rest." 

But  a  woman's  is  comparatively  a  fixed,  a  seclud- 
ed, and  a  meditative  life.  She  is  more  the  com- 
panion of  her  own  thoughts  and  feelings  ;  and  if 
they  are  turned  to  ministers  of  sorrow,  where  shall 
she  look  for  consolation  ?  Her  lot  is  to  be  wooed 
and  won  ;  and  if  unhappy  in  her  love,  her  heart  is 
like  some  fortress  that  has  been  captured,  and 
sacked,  and  abandoned,   and  left  desolate. 

How  many  bright  eyes  grow  dim,  how  many 
@  =(§) 


(5)  =@ 

122  THE    BROKEN   HEART. 

soft  cheeks  grow  pale,  how  many  lovety  forms 
fade  away  into  the  tomb,  and  none  can  tell  the 
cause  that  blighted  their  loveliness !  As  the 
dove  will  clasp  its  wings  to  its  sides,  and  cover 
and  conceal  the  arrow  that  is  preying  on  its  vitals, 
so  it  is  the  nature  of  women  to  hide  from  the 
world  the  pangs  of  wounded  affection.  The  love 
of  a  delicate  female  is  always  shy  and  silent. 
Even  when  fortunate,  she  scarcely  breathes  it  to 
herself;  but  when  otherwise,  she  buries  it  in  the 
deep  recesses  of  her  bosom,  and  there  lets  it  cower 
and  brood  among  the  ruins  of  her  peace.  With 
her  the  desire  of  her  heart  has  failed.  The  great 
charm  of  existence  is  at  an  end.  She  neglects 
all  the  cheerful  exercises  which  gladden  the  spirits, 
quicken  the  pulses,  and  send  the  tide  of  life  in 
healthful  currents  through  the  veins.  Her  rest  is 
broken  —  the  sweet  refreshment  of  sleep  is  poi- 
soned by  melancholy  dreams  —  "  dry  sorrow  drinks 
her  blood,"  until  her  enfeebled  frame  sinks  under 
the  slightest  injury.  Look  for  her  after  a  while, 
and  you  will  find  friendship  over  her  untimely 
grave,  and  wondering  that  one  who  but  lately 
glowed  with  all  the  radiance  of  health  and  beauty 
should  so  easily  be  brought  down  to  "  darkness 
and  the  worm."  You  will  be  told  of  some  wintry 
chill,  some  casual  indisposition,  that  laid  her  low  ; 
but  no  one  knows  of  the  mental  malady  that  pre- 
viously sapped  her  strength,  and  made  her  so  easy 
a  prey  to  the  spoiler. 


(5)  (o) 

THE    BROKEN    HEART.  123 

She  is  like  some  tender  tree,  the  pride  and 
beauty  of  the  grove  ;  graceful  in  its  form,  bright 
in  its  foliage,  but  with  the  worm  preying  at  its 
heart.  We  find  it  suddenly  withering,  when  it 
should  be  most  fresh  and  luxuriant.  We  see  it 
dropping  its  branches  to  the  earth,  and  shedding  leaf 
by  leaf,  until,  wasted  and  perished  away,  it  falls 
even  in  the  stillness  of  the  forest ;  and  as  we  muse 
over  the  beautiful  ruin,  we  strive  in  vain  to  collect 
the  blast  or  thunderbolt  that  could  have  smitten  it 
with  decay. 

I  have  seen  many  instances  of  women  running 
to  waste  and  self-neglect,  and  disappearing  gradu- 
ally from  the  earth,  almost  as  if  they  had  been  ex- 
alted to  heaven ;  and  have  repeatedly  fancied  that 
I  could  trace  their  death  through  the  various  de- 
clensions of  consumption,  cold,  debility,  languor, 
melancholy,  until  I  reached  the  first  symptom  of 
disappointed  love.  But  an  instance  of  the  kind 
was  lately  told  to  me ;  the  circumstances  are  well 
known  in  the  country  where  they  happened,  and  I 
shall  give  them  in  the  manner  in  which  they  were 
related. 

Every  one  must  recollect  the  tragical  story  of 
young  E ,  the  Irish  patriot ;  it  was  too  touch- 
ing to  be  soon  forgotten.  During  the  troubles  in 
Ireland,  he  was  tried,  condemned,  and  executed, 
on  a  charge  of  treason.  His  fate  made  a  deep  irn- 
pression  on  public  sympathy.  He  was  so  young 
— -  so    intelligent  —  so    generous  —  so    brave  —  so 

©  @ 


124  THE   BROKEN   HEART. 

every  thing  we  are  apt  to  like  in  a  young  man ! 
His  conduct  under  trial,  too,  was  so  lofty  and  in- 
trepid. The  noble  indignation  with  which  he  re- 
pelled the  charges  of  treason  against  his  country 
—  the  eloquent  vindication  of  his  name  —  and  his 
pathetic  appeal  to  posterity  in  the  hopeless  hour 
of  condemnation  —  all  these  entered  deeply  into 
every  generous  bosom,  and  even  his  enemies  la- 
mented the  stern  policy  that  dictated  his  execu- 
tion. 

But  there  was  one  heart  whose  anguish  it 
would  be  impossible  to  describe.  In  happier  days 
and  fairer  fortunes,  he  had  won  the  affections  of  a 
beautiful  and  interesting  girl,  the  daughter  of  a 
late  Irish  barrister.  She  loved  him  with  the  disin- 
terested fervor  of  a  woman's  first  and  early  love. 
When  every  worldly  maxim  arrayed  itself  against 
him,  when  blasted  in  fortune,  and  disgrace  and 
danger  darkened  around  his  name,  she  loved  him 
the  more  ardently  for  his  sufferings.  If,  then,  his 
fate  could  awaken  the  sympathy  even  of  his  foes, 
what  must  have  been  the  agony  of  her  whose  whole 
soul  was  occupied  by  his  image !  Let  those  tell 
who  have  the  portals  of  the  tomb  suddenly  closed 
between  them  and  the  being  they  most  loved  on 
earth  —  who  have  sat  at  its  threshold,  as  one  shut 
out  in  a  cold  and  lonely  world,  from  whence  all 
that  was   most  lovely  and  loving  had  departed. 

But  the  horrors  of  such  a  grave !  so  frightful, 
so  dishonored  I     There  was  nothing  for  memory  to 

©  — 


=© 


THE    BROKEN    HEART.  125 

dwell  on  that  could  soothe  the  pang  of  separation 
—  none  of  those  tender,  though  melancholy,  ciar- 
cumstances  that  endear  the  parting  scene  —  noth- 
ing to  melt  sorrow  into  those  blessed  tears,  sent, 
like  the  dews  of  heaven,  to  revive  the  heart  in  the 
parting  hour  of  anguish. 

To  render  her  widowed  situation  more  desolate, 
she  had  incurred  her  father's  displeasure  by  the 
unfortunate  attachment,  and  was  an  exile  from  the 
parental  roof.  But  could  the  sympathy  and  kind 
offices  of  friends  have  reached  a  spirit  so  shocked 
and  driven  in  by  horror,  she  would  have  experi- 
enced no  want  of  consolation,  for  the  Irish  are  a 
people  of  quick  and  generous  sensibilities.  The 
most  delicate  attentions  were  paid  her  by  families 
of  wealth  and  distinction.  She  was  led  into  soci- 
ety, and  tried  all  kinds  of  occupation  and  amuse- 
ment to  dissipate  her  grief,  and  wean  her  from  the 
tragical  story  of  her  lover.  But  it  was  all  in  vain. 
There  are  some  strokes  of  calamity  that  scath 
and  scorch  the  soul  —  that  penetrate  to  the  vital 
seat  of  happiness,  and  blast  it,  never  again  to 
put  forth  bud  or  blossom.  She  never  objected  to 
frequent  the  haunts  of  pleasure,  but  she  was  as 
much  alone  tl\ere  as  in  the  depths  of  solitude. 
She  walked  about  in  sad  revery,  apparently  un- 
conscious of  the  world  around  her.  She  carried 
within  her  an  inward  woe  that  mocked  all  the 
blandishments  of  friendship,  and  "  heeded  not  the 
song  of  the  charmer,  charm  he  never  so  wisely." 


=@ 


126  THE    BROKEN   HEART. 

The  person  who  told  me  her  story  had  seen  her 
at  a  masquerade.  There  can  be  no  exhibition  of 
far-gone  wretchedness  more  striking  and  painful 
than  to  meet  it  in  such  a  scene  —  to  find  it  wan- 
dering like  a  spectre,  lonely  and  joyless,  where  all 
around  is  gay  —  to  see  it  dressed  out  in  trappings 
of  mirth,  and  looking  so  wan  and  woe-begone,  as 
if  it  had  tried  in  vain  to  cheat  the  poor  heart  into 
a  momentary  forgetfulness  of  sorrow.  After  stroll- 
ing through  the  splendid  rooms  and  giddy  crowd, 
with  an  air  of  utter  abstraction,  she  sat  herself 
down  on  the  steps  of  the  orchestra,  and  looking 
about  for  some  time  with  a  vacant  air,  that 
showed  her  insensibility  to  the  gairish  scene,  she 
began,  with  the  capriciousness  of  a'sickly  heart,  to 
warble  a  little  plaintive  air.  She  had  an  exquisite 
voice ;  but  on  this  occasion  it  was  so  simple,  so 
touching,  it  breathed  forth  such  a  soul  of  wretch- 
edness, that  she  drew  a  crowd  mute  and  silent 
around  her,  and  melted  every  one  into  tears. 

The  story  of  one  so  true  and  tender  could  not 
but  excite  great  interest  in  a  country  so  remarka- 
ble for  enthusiasm.  It  completely  won  the  heart 
of  a  brave  officer,  who  paid  his  addresses  to  her, 
and  thought  that  one  so  true  to.  the  dead  could 
not  but  prove  affectionate  to  the  living.  She  de- 
clined his  attentions,  for  her  thoughts  were  irrev- 
ocably engrossed  by  the  memory  of  her  former 
lover.  He,  however,  persisted  in  his  suit.  He  so- 
licited, not   her   tenderness,  but  her  esteem.     He 

©  '  •  — 


THE    BROKEN    HEART.  127 

was  assisted  by  her  conviction  of  his  worth,  and 
her  sense  of  her  own  destitute  and  dependent  sit- 
uation, for  she  was  existing  on  the  kindness  of 
friends.  In  a  word,  he  at  length  succeeded  in 
gaining  her  hand,  though  with  the  assurance  that 
her  heart  was  unalterably  another's. 

He  took  her  with  him  to  Sicily,  hoping  that  a 
change  of  scene  might  wear  out  the  remembrance 
of  early  woes.  She  was  an  amiable  and  exempla- 
ry wife,  and  made  an  effort  to  be  a  happy  one  ; 
but  nothing  could  cure  the  silent  and  devouring 
melancholy  that  had  entered  into  her  very  soul. 
She  wasted  in  a  slow  and  hopeless  decline,  and  at 
length  sunk  into  the  grave,  the  victim  of  a  broken 
heart. 

It  was  on  her  that  Moore,  the  distinguished 
Irish  poet,  composed  the  following  lines:  — 

She  is  far  from  the  land  where  her  young  hero  sleeps, 

And  lovers  around  her  are  sighing  ; 
But  coldly  she  turns  from  their  gaze  and  weeps, 

For  her  heart  in  his  grave  is  lying. 

lie  had  lived  for  his  love — for  his  country  he  died ; 

They  were  all  that  to  life  had  entwined  him ; 
Nor  soon  shall  the  tears  of  his  country  be  dried, 

Nor  long  will  his  love  stay  behind  him ! 

O,  make  her  a  gi-ave  where  the  sunbeams  rest, 

When  they  promise  a  glorious  morrow  ; 
They'll  shine  o'er  her  sleep  like  a  smile  from  the  west, 

From  her  own  loved  island  of  sorrow  I  w.  ibvino. 

© '  '      © 


©  @ 

128  PENSIVENESS. 


LABURNUM. 

Cytisus. 

Language —PENSIVENESS. 

A  GENTLE  maiden,  whose  large  loving  eyes 

Enshrine  a  tender,  melancholy  light, 
Like  the  soft  radiance  of  the  starry  skies, 

Or  autumn  sunshine,  mellowed  when  most  bright ; 
She  is  not  sad,  yet  in  her  gaze  appears 
Something  that  makes  the  gazer  think  of  tears. 

Mrs.  Emburt. 

A  soul,  too,  more  than  half  divine. 

Where,  through  some  shades  of  earthly  feeling, 
Religion's  softened  glories  shine, 

Like  light  through  summer  foliage  stealing. 
Shedding  a  glow  of  such  mild  hue, 
So  warm,  and  yet  so  shadowy  too, 
As  makes  the  very  darkness  there  . 

More  beautiful  than  light  elsewhere  ! 

MOOEE. 

Few  know  that  elegance'  of  soul  refined, 
Whose  soft  sensation  feels  a  quicker  joy 
From  melancholy's  scenes,  than  the  dull  pride 
Of  tasteless  splendor  and  magnificence 
Can  e'er  afford. 

Wabtoit. 


@  -© 


©= 


FORGET  ME  NOT.  129 


LADIES'  DELIGHT. 

Viola  Tricolor. 

Language  — FORGET  ME  NOT. 

I  HEARD  thy  low-whispered  farewell,  love, 

And  silently  saw  thee  depart ; 
Ay,  silent ;  for  how  could  words  tell,  love. 

The  sorrow  that  swelled  in  my  heart  ? 
They  could  not,  0  language  is  faint 

When  passion's  devotion  would  speak  ; 
Light  pleasure  and  pain  it  may  paint ; 

But  with  feelings  like  ours  it  is  weak. 
Yet  tearless  and  mute  though  I  stood,  love. 

Thy  last  words  are  thrilling  me  yet, 
And  my  heart  would  have  breathed,  if  it  could,  love. 

And  murmured,  "  0,  do  not  forget !  " 

Mss.  Osgood. 
ANSW^ER. 

To  me,  through  every  season,  dearest. 
In  every  scene,  by  day  and  night. 

Thou  present  to  my  mind  appearest, 
A  quenchless  star,  forever  bright ! 
My  solitary,  sole  delight ! 

Alone  —  in  grove  —  by  shore  —  at  sea  — 
I  think  of  thee  ! 

£.  M.  Mois. 


©= 


@ 

130  CAPRICIOUSNESS. 


LADIES'  SLIPPER. 

Cypripedium. 

Language  —  CAPRICIOUSNESS. 

I  CANNOT  love  liim  : 
Yet  I  suppose  him  virtuous,  know  him  noble  ; 
Of  great  estate,  of  fresh  and  stainless  youth ; 
In  voices  well  divulged,  free,  learned,  and  valiant, 
And  in  dimensions,  and  the  shape  of  nature, 
A  gracious  person  ;  but  yet  I  cannot  love  him. 
He  might  have  took  his  answer  long  ago. 

SlIAKSPEAEE. 

But  who  can  tell  what  cause  had  that  fair  maid 

To  use  him  so,  that  loved  her  so  well  ? 
Or  who  with  blame  can  justly  her  upbraid 

For  loving  not  ?  for  who  can  love  compel  ? 
And  sooth  to  say,  it  is  foolhardy  thing 

Rashly  to  whiten  creatures  so  divine  ; 
For  demigods  they  be,  and  first  did  spring 

From  heaven,  though  graft  in  frailness  feminine. 

Spenser. 

It  is  not  virtue,  wisdom,  valor,  wit, 

Strength,  comeliness  of  shape,  or  amplest  merit, 

That  woman's  love  can  win  ; 

J5ut  what  is,  hard  it  is  to  say,  harder  to  hit. 

Milton. 

Love  looks  not  with  the  eyes,  but  with  the  mind ; 
And  therefore  is  winged  Cupid  painted  blind. 

SnAKSPEARE. 


-@ 

FICKLENESS.  131 


LAUKSPUR. 

Delphinium. 

Language  —  FICKLENESS. 

Farewell  !  'tis  mine  to  prove 

Of  blighted  hopes  the  pain  ; 
But  0,  believe  I  cannot  love 

As  I  have  loved  —  again ! 

Farewell !  'ti^  thine  to  change, 

Forget,  be  false,  be  free  ; 
But  know,  wherever  thou  shalt  range. 

That  none  can  love  like  me  ! 

TUPPEK. 

Did  woman's  charms  thy  youth  beguile, 
And  did  the  fair  one  faithless  prove  ? 
Hath  she  betrayed  thee  with  her  smile. 
And  sold  thy  love  ? 

Live !  'twas  a  false,  bewildering  fire  ; 
Too  often  love's  insidious  dart 
Thrills  the  fond  soul  with  wild  desire, 
But  kills  the  heart. 

Thou  yet  shalt  know  how  sweet,  how  dear 
To  gaze  on  listening  beauty's  eye ; 
To  ask,  and  pause  in  hope  and  fear 
Till  she  reply. 

A  nobler  flame  shall  warm  thy  breast, 
A  brighter  maiden  faithful  prove  ; 
Thy  youth,  thy  age,  shall  yet  be  blest 

In  woman's  love.                        montoomeky. 
© --=:: @ 


'-(§)  I 


132 


FAME. 


LAUREL. 

Rhododendron. 

Language  —  FAME. 

Ques.    What  shall  I  do,  lest  life  in  silence  pass  ?  — 
Ans.  And  if  it  do, 

And  never  prompt  the  bray  of  noisy  brass, 

What  need'st  thou  rue  ? 
Remember  aye  the  ocean  deeps  are  mute, 

The  shallows  roar : 
Worth  is  the  ocean  ;  fame  is  but  the  bruit 
Along  the  shore. 

Qiies.    What  shall  I  do  to  be  forever  known  ? 
A71S.  Thy  duty  ever. 

Ques.    This  did  full  many  who  yet  sleep  unknown. 
Ans.  0,  never,  never. 

Think'st  thou,  perchance,  that   they  remain   un- 
known 

Whom  thou  know'st  not  ? 
By  angel  trumps  in  heaven  their  praise  is  blown  : 
Divine  their  lot. 

Ques.    What  shall  I  do  to  have  eternal  life  ? 
Ans.  Discharge  aright 

The  simple  dues  with  which  the  day  is  rife  — 

Yea,  with  thy  might. 
Ere  perfect  sphere  of  action  thou  devise 

Will  life  be  fled  ; 
While  he  who  ever  acts  as  conscience  cries 

Shall  live,  though  dead,     pq^ms  of  youth. 

@  @ 


—  =@ 

ACKNOWLEDGMENT.  133 


•       LAVENDER. 

Lavandula  Spicata. 

Language  —  ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 

Thinkest  thou 
That  I  could  live,  and  let  thee  go, 
Who  art  my  life  itself?  —  No,  no. 

^  Moore. 

I  would  be  thine  ! 
My  world  in  thee  to  centre, 

With  all  its  hopes,  cares,  fears,  and  loving  thought; 
No  wish  beyond  the  home  where  thou  shouldst  enter 
Ever  anew  to  find  thy  presence  brought 

My  life's  best  joy. 

I  would  be  thine  ! 
Not  passion's  wild  emotion 
To  show  thee,  fitful  as  the  changing  wind, 
But  with  a  still,  deep,  fervent  life-devotion, 
To  be  to  thee  the  helpmeet  God  designed : 

For  this  would  I  be  thine  ! 

Anon. 

Forever  thine,  whate'er  this  world  betide, 
In  youth,  in  age,  thine  own,  forever  thine. 

A.  A  Waits. 


=@ 


134  FIRST    EMOTIONS    OF   LOVE. 


LILAC. 

Syringa. 

Language  — EIRST  EMOTIONS   OF  LOVE. 

Our  love  came  as  ilie  early  dew 

Comes  unto  drooping  flowers ; 
Dropping  its  first  sweet  freshness  on 

Our  life's  dull,  lonely  hours. 
As  each  pale  blossom  lifts  its  head 
Revived  with  blessings  nightly  shed 

By  summer  breeze  and  dew, 
O,  thus  our  spirits  rose  beneath 
Love's  gentle  dews  and  living  breath, 

To  drink  of  life  anew ! 

Mks.  Nichols. 

O,  precious  is  the  flower  that  passion  brings 

To  his  first  shrine  of  beauty,  when  the  heart 
Runs  over  in  devotion,  and  no  art 

Checks  the  free  gush  of  the  wild  lay  he  sings ; 

But  the  rapt  eye,  and  the  impetuous  thought 
Declare  the  pure  affection. 

SIMMS. 

0,  the  days  are  gone  when  beauty  bright 

My  keart  chain  wove  ; 
When  my  dream  of  life,  from  morn  till  night, 

Was  love,  still  love  ! 
New  hope  may  bloom,  and  days  may  come 

Of  milder,  calmer  beam. 
But  there's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 

As  love's  young  dream. 

Moose. 
@  @ 


@ 

UNNOTICED    AFFECTION.  13o 


LILY  OF  THE  VALLEY. 

Convaltaria. 

Language— UNNOTICED   AFFECTION. 

He  came  too  late  !  neglect  had  tried 

Her  constancy  too  long  ; 
Her  love  had  yielded  to  her  pride, 

And  the  deep  sense  of  wrong. 
She  scorned  the  offering  of  a  heart 

That  lingered  on  its  way, 
Till  it  would  no  delight  impart, 

Nor  spread  one  cheering  ray. 

E.  BOOAET. 

0,  no  !  my  heart  can  never  be 
Again  in  lightest  hopes  the  same ; 

The  love  that  lingers  there  for  thee 
Hath  more  of  ashes  than  of  flame. 

Miss  Landon. 

Unhappy  he,  who  lets  a  tender  heart, 
Bound  to  him  by  the  ties  of  earliest  love, 
Fall  from  him  by  his  own  neglect,  and  die. 
Because  it  met  no  kindness. 

Pekcival. 

Wilt  thou  sit  among  the  ruins, 
With  all  words  of  cheer  unspoken. 

Till  the  silver  cord  is  loosened. 
Till  the  golden  bow}  is  broken  ? 

A.  C.  Lynch. 


(§)  ^== —  '     @  j 

136  PURITY   AND    MODESTY. 


LILY,  WHITE. 

Lilium  Candidum. 

Language  — PURITY  AND   MODESTY. 

Where  may  the  bright  flower  be  met 

That  can  match  with  Magaret  — 

Margaret,  stately,  staid,  and  good, 

Growing  up  to  womanhood  ; 

Loving,  thoughtful,  wise,  and  kind. 

Pure  in  heart  and  strong  in  mind  ? 

Eyes  deep  blue,  as  is  the  sky 

When  the  full  moon  sails  on  high. 

Eyebrow  true  and  forehead  fair, 

And  dark,  richly-braided  hair. 

And  a  queenly  head,  well  set, 

Crown  my  maiden  Margaret. 

Where's  the  flower  that  thou  canst  find 

Match  for  her  in  form  and  mind  ? 

Fair  white  lilies,  having  birth 

In  their  native  genial  earth  — 

These,  in  scent  and  queenly  grace. 

Match  thy  maiden's  form  and  face !  howitt. 


@  =@ 


AFFECTION    BEYOND    THE    GRAVE.  137 


\  LOCUST. 

Robinia  Car  agar  a. 
Lang  UAGE  — AFFECTION  BEYOND   THE   GRAVE. 

Years,  years  have  fled,  since,  hushed  in  thy  last  slumber, 
They  laid  thee  down  beneath  the  old  elm  tree  : 

But  with  a  patient  heart  each  day  I  number, 
Because  it  brings  me  nearer  still  to  thee. 

Thou  wert  life's  angel :  how  I  loved,  adored  thee. 

Ere  death  had  set  thy  gentle  spirit  free ! 
And  now  thou  know'st  how  oft  I  have  implored  thee 

To  bring  me  nearer,  nearer  still  to  thee. 

Nearer  to  thee  !    To-night  the  stars  are  burning 
In  skies  that  must  thy  blessed  dwelling  be : 

Thou  canst  not  leave  them,  unto  earth  returning ; 
But  I  am  pressing  nearer  still  to  thee. 

Nearer  to  thee !    I  know  my  prayer  is  granted  ; 

I  know-  thjr  spirit  now  is  close  to  me  : 
No,  not  in  vain  this  hope  my  heart  hath  haunted : 

Each  pulsebeat  brings  me  nearer,  nearer  thee. 

Wm.  B.  Glazier. 

Let  me,  then  let  me  dream 

That  love  goes  with  us  to  the  shore  unknown ; 
So  o'er  the  burning  tear  a  heavenly  gleam 

In  mercy  shall  be  thrown. 

Mrs.  Hemaxs. 


@  @ 


©= 


138 


ESTRANGEMENT. 


:@ 


LOTUS. 
Lotos, 


Language  —  ESTRANGEMENT. 


Alas  !  how  light  a  cause  may  move 

Dissension  between  hearts  that  love !  — 

Hearts  that  the  world  in  vain  has  tried, 

And  sorrow  but  more  closely  tied  ; 

That  stood  the  storm  when  waves  were  rough, 

Yet  in  a  sunny  hour  fall  o'iF, 

Like  ships  that  have  gone  down  at  sea, 

When  heaven  was  all  tranquillity ! 

A  something  light  as  air  —  a  look  — • 

A  word  unkind,  or  wrongly  taken  ; 

O,  love  that  tempests  never  shook, 

A  breath,  a  touch,  like  this  hath  broken. 


Moore. 


O  ye,  who,  meeting,  sigh  to  part, 
Whose  words  are  treasures  to  some  heart, 
Deal  gently,  ere  the  dark  days  come 
When  earth  hath  but  for  one  a  home ; 
Lest,  musing  o'er  the  past,  like  me, 
They  feel  their  hearts  wrung  bitterly  ; 
And,  heeding  not  what  else  is  heard, 
Dwell  weeping  on  a  careless  word. 


Mks.  Noetox. 


(& 


:(Ol 


(o) 

PERPLEXITY.  139 


LOVE  IN  A  MIST. 

Language  —  PERPLEXITY. 

When  I  was  a  wee  little  slip  of  a  girl, 

Too  artless  and  young  for  a  prude, 
The  men,  as  I  passed,  would  exclaim,  "  Pretty  dear ! 

Which,  I  must  say,  I  thought  rather  rude ; 
Rather  rude,  so  I  did ; 

Which,  I  must  say,  I  thought  rather  rude. 
However,  thought  I,  when  I'm  once  in  my  teens, 

They'd  sure  cease  to  worry  me  then  ; 
But  as  I  grew  older,  so  they  grew  the  bolder  — 

Such  impudent  things  are  the  men  ; 

Are  the  men,  are  the  men ;         ^ 

Such  impudent  things  are  the  men. 

But  of  all  the  bold  things  I  could  ever  suppose  — 

Yet  how  could  I  take  it  amiss  ?  — 
Was  that  of  my  impudent  cousin  last  night, 

When  he  actually  gave  me  a  kiss  ! 
Ay,  a  kiss,  so  he  did ! 

When  he  actually  gave  me  a  kiss ! 
I  quickly  reproved  him  ;  but  ah,  in  such  tones, 

That,  ere  we  were  half  through  the  glen. 
My  anger  to  smother,  he  gave  me  another  — 

Such  strange,  coaxing  things  are  the  men  ; 
Are  the  men,  are  the  men  ; 

Such  stranore,  coaxing  thinojs  are  the  men. 


:@ 


@ 

140  HOPELESS,  NOT  HEARTLESS. 

LOVE  LIES  BLEEDING. 

AmaranthiLS. 

Language  — HOPELESS,  NOT   HEARTLESS. 

She  loves  him  yet ! 
The  flower  the  false  one  gave  her, 

When  last  he  came. 
Is  still  with  her  wild  tears  wet. 

She'll  ne'er  forget, 
Howe'er  his  faith  may  waver ; 

Through  grief  and  shame  — 
Believe  it — she  loves  him  yet! 

Mrs.  Osgood. 

Full  many  a  miserable  year  hath  passed  — 
She  knows  him  as  one  dead,  or  worse  than  dead ; 
And  many  a  change  her  varied  life  hath  known, 
But  her  heart  none. 

Maturix. 

No  thought  within  her  bosom  stirs. 

But  wakes  some  feeling  dark  and  dread  ; 

God  keep  thee  from  a  doom  like  hers, 
Of  living  when  the  hopes  are  dead. 

PnOiBE  Carey. 

And  now  farewell !  farewell !    I  dare  not  lengthen 
Those  sweet,  sad  moments  out :  to  gaze  on  thee 

Is  bliss  indeed ;  yet  it  but  serves  to  strengthen 
The  love  that  now  amounts  to  agony  ; 

This  is  our  last  farewell. 

/  Mrs.  Welby. 

@  -  ==<§) 


MY  fortune's  made.  141 


MY  FORTUNE'S   MADE. 

My  young  friend,  Cora  Lee,  was  a  gay,  dashing 
girl,  fond  of  dress,  and  looking  always  as  if,  to 
use  a  homely  saying,  just  out  of  the  bandbox. 
Cora  was  a  belle,  of  course,  and  had  many  ad- 
mirers. Among  the  number  of  these  was  a  young 
man  named  Edward  Douglass,  who  was  the  very 
"  pink  "  of  neatness  in  all  matters  pertaining  to 
dress,  and  exceedingly  particular  in  his  observance 
of  the  little  proprieties  of  life. 

I  saw  from  the  first  that,  if  Douglass  pressed  his 
suit,  Cora's  heart  w'ould  be  an  easy  conquest ;  and 
so  it  proved. 

"  How  admirably  they  are  fitted  for  each  other!" 
I  remarked  to  my  husband  on  the  night  of 
the  wedding.  "  Their  tastes  are  similar,  and  their 
habits  are  so  much  alike  that  no  violence  will  be 
done  to  the  feelings  of  either,  in  the  more  intimate 
associations  that  marriage  brings.  Both  are  neat 
in  person,  and  orderly  by  instinct,  and  both  have 
good  principles." 

"  From  all  present  appearances,  the  match  will 
be  a  good  one,"  replied  my  husband.  There  was, 
I  thought,  somethj^g  like  reservation  in  his  tone. 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  "  I  said,  a  little  iron- 
ically ;  for  Mr.  Smith's  approval  of  the  marriage 
was  hardly  warm  enough  to   suit  my  fancy. 

"  O,  certainly  !     Why  not?"   he  replied. 


142  MY  fortune's  made. 


I  felt  a  little  fretted  at  my  husband's  mode  of 
speaking,  but  made  no  further  remarks  on  the 
subject.  He  is  never  very  enthusiastic  or  san- 
guine, and  did  not  mean,  in  this  instance,  to 
doubt  the  fitness  of  the  parties  for  happiness  in 
the  marriage  state,  as  I  half  imagined.  For  myself, 
I  warmly  approved  my  friend's  choice,  and  called 
her  husband  a  lucky  man  to  secure  for  his  com- 
panion through  life  a  woman  so  admirably  fit- 
ted to  make  one  like  him  happy.  But  a  visit 
which  I  paid  to  Cora,  one  day,  about  six  weeks 
after  the  honeymoon  had  expired,  lessened  my  en- 
thusiasm on  the  subject,  and  awoke  some  unpleas- 
ant doubts.  It  happened  that  I  called  soon  after 
breakfast.  Cora  met  me  in  the  parlor,  looking 
like  a  very  fright.  She  wore  a  soiled  and  rumpled 
morning  wrapper,  her  hair  was  in  papers,  and  she 
had  on  dirty  stockings,  and  a  pair  of  slippers 
down  at  the  heels. 

"  Bless  me,  Cora,"  said  I.  "  What  is  the  mat- 
ter ?     Have  you  been,  sick  ?  " 

"  No.  Why  do  you  ask  ?  Is  my  dishabille  on 
the  extreme  ?  " 

"  Candidly,  I  think  it  is,  Cora,"  was^  my  frank 
answer. 

"  O,  well !  No  matter,'^  she  carelessly  replied, 
"  my  fortune's  made." 

"  I  don't  clearly  understand  you,"  said  I. 

"  I'm  married,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  am  aware  of  that  fact." 


MY  fortune's  made.  143 

'•  No  need  of  being  so  particular  in  dress  now." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Didn't  I  just  say  ?  "  replied  Cora.  "  My  for- 
tuQe's  made.     I've  got  a  husband." 

Beneath  an  air  of  jesting  was  apparent  the  real 
earnestness  of  my  friend. 

"  You  dressed  with  a  careful  regard  to  taste  and 
neatness  in  order  to  win  Edward's  love !  "  said  I. 

"  Certainly  I  did." 

"  And  should  you  not  do  the  same  in  order  to 
retain  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Smith !  Do  you  think  my  hus- 
band's affection  goes  no  deeper  than  my  dress  ?  I 
should  be  very  sorry  indeed  to  own  that.  He 
loves  me  for  myself." 

"  No  doubt  of  that  in  the  world,  Cora.  But  re- 
member that  he  cannot  see  what  is  in  your  mind 
except  by  what  you  do  or  say.  If  he  admires 
yoar  taste,  for  instance,  it  is  not  from  any  abstract 
appreciation  of  it,  but  because  the  taste  manifests 
itself  in  what  you  do.  And  depend  upon  it  he 
will  find  it  a  very  hard  matter  to  approve  and  ad- 
mire your  correct  taste  in  dress,  for  instance,  when 
^ou  appear  before  him  day  after  day,  in  your  pres- 
ent unattractive  attire.  If  you  do  not  dress  well 
for  your  husband's  eyes,  for  whose  eyes,  pray,  do 
you  dress  ?  You  are  as  neat  when  abroad  as  you 
were  before  your  marriage." 

"As  to  that,  Mrs.  Smith,  common  decency  re- 
quires me  to  dress  well  when  I  go  upon  the  street, 
(o)—  (O) 


144  MY  fortune's  mat>e. 

or  into  company,  to  say  nothing  of  the  pride  one 
naturally  feels  in  looking  well." 

"  And  does  not  the  same  decency  and  natural 
pride  argue  as  strongly  in  favor  of  your  dressing 
well  at  home,  and  for  the  eye  of  your  husband,  as 
the  approval  and  admiration  of  the  whole  world?" 

"  But  he  doesn't  want  to  see  me  rigged  out  in 
silks  and  satins  all  the  time.  A  pretty  bill  my 
dressmaker  would  have  against  him  in  that  event. 
Edward  has  more  sense  than  that,  I  flatter  my- 
self." 

"  Street  or  ball-room  attire  is  one  thing,  Cora, 
and  becoming  home  apparel  another.  We  look 
for  both  in  their  place." 

Thus  I  argued  with  the  thoughtless  young 
wife,,  but  my  words  made  no  impression.  When 
abroad,  she  dressed  with  exquisite  taste,  and  was 
lovely  to  look  upon  ;  but  at  home,  she  was  care- 
less and  slovenly,  and  made  it  almost  impossible  for 
those  who  saw  her  to  realize  that  she  was  the  bril- 
liant beauty  they  had  met  in  company  but  a  short 
time  before.  But  even  this  did  not  last  long.  I 
noticed,  after  a  few  months,  that  the  habits  of 
home  were  confirming  themselves,  and  becoming 
apparent  abroad.  Her  fortune  was  made,  and 
why  should  she  now  waste  time  or  employ  her 
thoughts  about  matters  of  personal  appearance  ? 

The  habits  of  Mr.  Douglass,  on  the  contrary, 
did  not  change.  He  was  orderly  as  before,  and 
dressed   with  the  same  regard   to   neatness.     He 

@  @ 


MY  fortune's  made.  '  145 

never  appeared  at  the  breakfast  table  in  the  morn- 
ing without  being  shaved,  nor  did  he  lounge  about 
in  the  evening  in  his  shirt  sleeves.  The  slovenly 
habits  into  which  Cora  had  fallen  annoyed  him  seri- 
ously, and  still  more  so  when  her  carelessness  about 
her  appearance  began  to  manifest  itself  abroad  as  at 
home.  When  he  hinted  any  thing  on  the  subject, 
she  did  not  hesitate  to  reply  in  a  jesting  manner, 
that  her  fortune  was  made,  and  that  she  need  not 
trouble  herself  any  longer  about  how  she  looked. 

Douglass  did  not  feel  very  much  complimented ; 
but  as  he  had  his  share  of  good  sense,  he  saw  that 
to  assume  a  cold  and  offended  manner  would  do 
no  good. 

"  If  your  fortune  is  made,  so  is  mine,"  he  re- 
plied on  one  occasion,  quite  coolly  and  indifferently. 
Next  morning  he  made  his  appearance  at  the  break- 
fast table  with  a  beard  of  twenty-four  hours'  growth. 

"  You  haven't  shaved  this  morning,  Edward," 
said  Cora,  to  whose  eyes  the  dirty-looking  face  of 
her  husband  was  particularly  unpleasant. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  carelessly.  "  It's  a  serious 
trouble  to  shave  every  day." 

"  But  you  look  so  much  the  better  with  a 
cleanly-shaved  face ! " 

"  Looks  are  nothing,  ease  and  comfort  every 
thing,"  said  Douglass. 

"  But  common  decency,  Edward  I  " 

"  I  see  nothing  indecent  in  a  long  beard,"  re- 
plied the  husband. 


10 


:@ 


©  @ 

146  MY  fortune's  made. 

Still  Cora  argued,  but  in  vain.  Her  husband 
went  off  to  his  business  with  his  unshaven  face. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  to  shave  or  not,"  said 
Douglass,  next  morning,  running  over  his  rough 
face,  upon  which  was  a  beard  of  forty-eight  hours' 
growth.  His  wife  had  hastily  thrown  on  a  wrap- 
per, and  with  slipshod  feet,  and  head  like  a  mop, 
was  lounging  in  a  large  rocking  chair,  awaiting 
the  breakfast  bell. 

"  For  mercy's  sake,  Edward,  don't  go  any  long- 
er with  that  shockingly  dirty  face,"  spoke  up  Cora. 
"  If  you  knew  how  dreadfully  you  looked." 

"  Looks  are  nothing,"  replied  Edward,  stroking 
his  beard. 

"  Why,  what  has  come  over  you  all  at  once  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  only  it's  such  a  trouble  to  shave 
every   day." 

"  But  you  didn't  shave  yesterday." 

"  I  know ;  I'm  just  as  well  off  to-day  as  if  I 
had.     So  much  saved,  at  any  rate." 

But  Cora  argued  the  matter,  and  her  husband 
finally  yielded,  and  mowed  down  the  luxuriant 
growth  of  beard. 

"  How  much  better  you  do  look ! "  said  the 
wife.  "  Now  don't  go  another  day  without  shav- 
ing." 

"  But  why  should  I  take  so  much  trouble  about 
mere  looks  ?  I'm  just  as  good  with  a  long  beard 
as  with  a  short  one.  It's  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
to   shave   every  day.     You  can  love  me  just   as 


@  — @ 

MY  fortune's  made.  147 

well,  and  why  need  I  care  about  what  others  say 
or  think?" 

On  the  following  morning  Douglass  appeared 
not  only  with  a  long  beard,  but  with  a  bosom  and 
collar  that  were  both  soiled  and  rumpled. 

"  Why,  Edward  !  how  you  do  look !  "  said  Cora. 
"  You've   neither  shaved  nor  put  on  a  clean  shirt." 

Edward  stroked  his  face,  and  running  his  fin- 
gers along  the  edge  of  his  collar,  remarked  indiffer- 
ently, as  he  did  so,  — 

"  It's  no  matter.  I  look  well  enough.  This 
being  so  very  particular  in  dress  is  a  waste  of 
time  ;  and  I'm  getting  tired  of  it." 

And  in  this  trim  Douglass  went  off  to  his  busi- 
ness, much  to  the  annoyance  of  his  wife,  who 
could  not  bear  to  see  her  husband  looking  so 
slovenly. 

Gradually  the  declension  from  neatness  went 
on,  until  Edward  was  quite  a  match  for  his  wife ; 
and  yet,  strange  to  say,  Cora  had  not  taken  the 
hint,  broad  as  it  was.  In  her  own  person  she  was 
as  untidy  as  ever. 

About  six  months  after  their  marriage,  we  in- 
vited a  few  friends  to  spend  a  social  evening  with 
us,  Cora  and  her  husband  among  the  number. 
Cora  came  along  quite  early,  and  said  that  her 
husband  was  very  much  engaged,  and  could  not 
come  till  after  tea.  My  young  friend  had  not 
taken  much  pains  in  her  attire.  Indeed,  her  ap- 
pearance mortified  me,  as  it  contrasted  so  decidedly 

@  © 


148  MY  fortune's  made. 

with  that  of  the  other  ladies  who  were  present; 
and  I  could  not  help  suggesting  to  her  that  she  was 
wrong  in  being  so  indifferent  about  her  dress. 
But  she  laughingly  replied  to  me,  "  You  know  my 
fortune's  made  now,  Mrs.  Smith.  I  can  afford  to 
be  negligent  in  these  matters^  It's  a  great  waste 
of  time  to  dress  so   much." 

I  tried  to  argue  against  this,  but  could  make  no 
impression  upon  her. 

About  an  hour  after  tea,  and  while  we  were 
all  engaged  in  pleasant  conversation,  the  door  of 
the  parlor  opened,  and  in  walked  Mr.  Douglass. 
At  first  glance  I  thought  I  must  be  mistaken. 
But  no,  it  was  Edward  himself.  But  what  a 
figure  he  did  cut!  His  uncombed  hair  was  stand- 
ing up,  in  stiff  spikes,  in  a  hundred  different  ways. 
His  face  could  not  have  felt  the  touch  of  a  razor 
for  two  or  three  days ;  and  he  wag  guiltless  of 
clean  linen  for  at  least  the  same  length  of  time. 
His  vest  was  soiled,  his  boots  unblacked,  and 
there  was  an  unmistakable  hole  in  one  of  his 
elbows. 

"  Why,  Edward !  "  exclaimed  his  wife,  with  a 
look  of  mortification  and  distress,  as  her  husband 
came  across  the  room,  with  a  face  in  which  no 
consciousness  of  the  figure  he  cut  could  be  detected. 

"  Why,  my  dear  fellow,  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 
said  my  husband,  frankly ;  for  he  perceived  that 
the  ladies  were  beginning  to  titter,  and  the 
gentlemen    were    looking    at    each    other,   trying 

@ © 


@  © 

MY  fortune's  made.  149 

to  repress  their  risible  tendencies,  and  therefore 
deemed  it  best  to  throw  off  all  restraint  on  the 
subject. 

"  The  matter  ?  Nothing's  the  matter,  I  believe. 
Why  do  you  ask  ?  "     Douglass  looked  grave. 

"  Well  may  we  ask  what's  the  matter  I  "  broke 
in  Cora,  energetically.  "  How  could  you  come 
here  in  such   a  plight?" 

"In  such  a  plight?"  And  Edward  looked 
down  at  himself,  felt  of  his  beard,  and  run  his  fin- 
gers through  his  hair.  "  What's  the  matter?  Is 
any  thing  wrong  ?  " 

"  You  look  as  if  you  had  just  waked  up  from  a 
nap  of  a  week,  with  your  clothes  on,  and  come 
off  without  washing  your  face  or  combing  your 
hair,"  said  my   husband. 

"  O  !  "  And  Edward's  countenance  brightened 
a  little.  Then  he  said,  with  much  gravity  of 
manner,  — 

"  I've  been  extremely  hurried  of  late,  and  only 
left  my  store  a  few  minutes  ago.  I  hardly  thought 
it  worth  while  to  go  home  to  dress  up.  I  knew 
you  were  all  friends  here.  Besides,  as  my  for- 
tune's made^^^  —  and  he  glanced,  with  a  looJt  not  to 
be  mistaken,  towards  his  wife,  —  "I  don't  feel 
called  upon  to  give  as  much  attention  to  mere 
dress  as  formerly.  Before  I  was  married,  it  was 
necessary  to  be  particular  in  these  matters,  but 
now  it  is  of  no  consequence." 

I  turned  towards  Cora.    Her  face  was  like  crim- 

@  @ 


& =@ 

150  MY  fortune's  made. 

son.  In  a  few  minutes  she  arose,  and  went  quick- 
ly from  the  room.  I  followed  her,  and  Edward 
came  after  us  pretty  soon.  He  found  his  wife  in 
tears,  and-  sobbing  almost  hysterically. 

"  I've  got  a  carriage  at  the  door,"  he  said  to  me 
aside,  half  laughing,  half  serious.  "  So  help  her 
on  with  her  things,  and  we'll  retire  in  disorder." 

"  But  it's  too  bad  in  you,  Mr.  Douglass,"  I  re- 
plied. 

"  Forgive  me  for  making  your  house  the  scene 
of  this  lesson  to  Cora,"  he  whispered.  "  It  had  to 
be  given,  and  I  thought  I  would  venture  to  tres- 
pass upon  your  forbearance." 

"  I'll  think  about  that,"  said  I,  in  return. 

In  a  few  minutes  Cora  and  her  husband  retired, 
and  in  spite  of  good  breeding,  and  every  thing 
else,  we  all  had  a  hearty  laugh  over  the  matter  on 
my  return  to  the  parlor,  when  I  explained  the  curi- 
ous scene  that  had  just  occurred. 

How  Cora  and  her  husband  settled  the  affair 
between  themselves,  I  never  inquired.  But  -one 
thing  is  certain  —  I  never  saw  her  in  a  slovenly 
dress  afterwards,  at  home  or  abroad.  She  was 
cured. 


£)0: 


@  .        @ 


© © 

MORAL    WORTH.  151 


MIGNONETTE. 

Reseda  Odorata. 

Language— MORAL  WORTH. 

Now  look  ye  on  the  plain  and  modest  guise 
Of  yon  unlovely  flower.     Unlovely  ?    No  — 
Not  beautiful,  'tis  true  —  not  touched  with  hues 
Like  hers  we  late  have  gazed  on  ;  but  so  rich 
In  precious  fragrance  is  that  lovely  one, 
So  loved  for  her  sweet  qualities,  that  I 
Should  woo  her  first  amid  a  world  of  flowers  ; 
For  she  is  like  some  few  beloved  ones  here, 
Whom  eyes,  perchance,  might  slightingly  pass  o'er, 
But  whose  true  wisdom,  gentleness,  and  worth. 
Unchanging  friendship,  ever-faithful  love. 
And  countless  minor  beauties  of  the  mind. 
Attach  our  hearts  in  deep  affection  still. 

TWAMBtY. 

When  yet  a  virgin  free  and  indisposed, 
I  loved,  but  saw  you  only  with  my  eyes  ; 
I  could  not  reach  the  beauties  of  your  soul : 
I  have  lived  since  in  contemplation 
And  long  experience  of  your  growing  goodness  ; 
What  then  was  passion  is  my  judgment  now  ; 
Through  all  the  several  changes  of  your  life. 
Confirmed  and  settled  in  adoring  you. 

ILlykk. 


@ 

152  SENSITIVENESS. 


SENSITIVE  PLANT. 

Mimosa. 

Language  —  SENSITIVENESS. 

Like  the  mimosa,  shrinking  from 

The  blight  of  some  familiar  finger  — 

Like  flowers  which  but  in  secret  bloom, 
Where  aye  the  sheltered  shadows  linger, 

And  which  beneath  the  noon's  hot  ray 

Would  fold  their  leaves  and  fade  away. 

Whittier. 

Faithful  and  fond,  with  sense  beyond  thy  years. 
And  natural  piety  that  leans  to  heaven  ; 

Wrung  by  a  harsh  word  suddenly  to  tears. 
Yet  patient  of  rebuke  when  justly  given  ; 

Obedient,  easy  to  be  reconciled, 

And  meekly  cheerful,  —  such  art  thou,  dear  child ! 

Mes.  Noeton. 

Dearly  bought,  the  hidden  treasure 

Finer  feelings  can  bestow  ;    , 
Chords  that  vibrate  sweetest  pleasure 

Thrill  the  deepest  notes  of  woe. 

-  Burns. 

The  frigid  and  unfeeling  thrive  the  best ; 

And  a  warm  heart  in  this  cold  world  is  like 

A  beacon  light,  wasting  its  feeble  flame 

Upon  the  wintry  deep,  that  feels  it  not, 

And  trembling,  with  each  pitiless  gust  that  blows, 

Till  its  faint  fire  is  spent. 

H.  Neale. 
@  @ 


@ =® 

NOT   DISCOURAGED.  153 

MISTLETOE. 

Viscum  Alburn. 

Language  — NOT  DISCOURAGED. 

Peter  and  Paul  went  a-fishing  one  day, 
And  it  so  came  about 
That  Paul  caught  a  trout ; 
But  Peter  kept  baiting  and  fishing  away  — 
He'd  scarce  had  a  nibble  when  twilight  was  gray 
So  he  sat  himself  down  for  a  pout  — 
Peter  sat  himself  down  for  a  pout. 

And  Paul  laughed  at  Peter,  and  called  him  a  fool ; 
He  had  better  to  bed. 
For  the  day  was  nigh  sped, 
And  the  earth  it  was  damp,  and  the  evening  cool : 
But  Peter  was  crabbed,  and  called  him  a  mule  ; 
Then,  baiting  his  hook  and  scratching  his  head, 
"  There's  other  fish  swimming  here  yet,"  Peter  said  ; 
"  0,  there's  other  fish  swimming  here  yet." 

And  Peter  kept  fishing ;  but  Paul  went  his  way 
To  eat  troat  with  his  bread 
Ere  he  went  to  his  bed 
And  he  wondered  how  long  poor  Peter  would  stay : 
But  Pete    caught  a  salmon  as  fair  as  the  day. 

And  he  laughed  to  himself,  as  homeward  he  sped  ; 
"  There's  other  fish  swimming  there  yet,"  Peter  said  ; 
"  0,  there's  other  fish  swimming  there  yet." 

Whene'er  in  life's  ocean  a  maid  you  espy, 
And  you  vow,  and  you  sue. 
And  she  pledges  you  true, 
But  while  you  are  napping  she's  caught  by  a^_y, 
Don't  turn,  like  a  dunce,  with  a  tear  in  your  eye. 
But  think  of  one  Peter,  who  sat  in  the  dew, 
And  muttered  this  text  while  he  baited  anew  — 
"  There's  other  fish  swimming  there  yet ; 
O,  there's  other  fish  swimming  there  yet."      J.  J.  Lord. 

©      '  — .  -^ 


<g) 


154  MATERNAL    AFFECTION. 


MOSS. 

Lycopodium. 

Language  —  MATERNAL  AFFECTION. 

Sweet  is  tlie  image  of  the  brooding  dove  ! 
Holy  as  heaven  a  mother's  tender  love  ! 
The  love  of  many  prayers,  and  many  tears, 
Which  changes  not  with  dim,  declining  years  — 
The  only  love,  which,  on  this  teeming  earth. 
Asks  no  return  for  passion's  wayward  birth. 

Mrs.  Noktok. 

I  miss  thee,  my  mother,  when  young  health  has  fled, 

And  I  sink  in  the  languor  of  pain. 
Where,  where  is  the  arm  that  once  pillowed  my  head, 

And  the  ear  that  once  heard  me  complain  ? 
Other  hands  may  support  me,  gentle  accents  may  fall ; 

For  the  fond  and  the  true  are  still  mine : 
I've  a  blessing  for  each  ;  I  am  grateful  to  all ; 

But  whose  care  can  be  soothing  like  thine  ? 

E.  Cook. 

Ah !  blessed  are  they  for  whom,  'mid  all  their  pains, 

That  faithful  and  unaltered  love  remains ; 

Who,  life  wrecked  round  them,  hunted  from  their  rest, 

And  by  all  else  forsaken  or  distressed, 

Claim  in  one  heart  their  sanctuary  and  shrine. 

As  I,  my  mother,  claimed  my  place  in  thine  ! 


©^ 


1 


WISDOM. 


155 


MULBERRY  TREE. 

Morus  Alba. 

Language  —  WISDOM. 

Who  are  the  wise? 
They  who  have  governed  with  a  self-control 
Each  wild  and  baneful  passion  of  the  soul  — 
Curbed  the  strong  impulse  of  all  fierce  desires, 
But  kept  alive  affection's  purer  fires ; 
They  who  have  passed  the  labyrinth  of  life, 
Without  one  hour  of  weakness  or  of  strife  ; 
Prepared  each  change  of  fortune  to  endure. 
Humble,  though  rich,  and  dignified,  though  poor  ; 
Skilled  in  the  latent  movements  of  the  heart ; 
Learned  in  the  lore  which  nature  can  impart ; 
Teaching  that  sweet  philosophy  aloud 
Which  sees  the  "  silver  lining  "  of  the  cloud  ; 
Looking  for  good  in  all  beneath  the  skies  : 

These  are  the  truly  wise. 

J.  R.  Pkincb. 

This,  this  is  wisdom,  manful  and  serene  —     ^ 
Towards  God  all  penitence,  and  prayer,  and  trust ; 

But  to  the  troubles  of  this  shifting  scene 
Simply  courageous  and  sublimely  just ; 

Be  then  such  wisdom  thine,  my  heart  within  — 

There  is  no  foe,  nor  woe,  nor  grief,  but  sin. 

TUPPKR. 

Wisdom  to  gold  prefer ;  for  'tis  much  less 
To  make  our  fortune  than  our  happiness. 


(2): 


=@ 


@  (o) 

156  LOVE    IN   ABSENCE. 


MYRTLE. 

Myrtus. 

Language  — LOVE   IN  ABSENCE. 

Linger  not  long !     Home  is  not  home  without  thee ; 

Its  dearest  tokens  only  make  me  mourn ; 
0,  let  its  memory,  like  a  chain  about  thee, 

Gently  compel  and  hasten  thy  return. 
Linger  not  long ! 

Linger   not   long!     Though  crowds  should  woo  thy 
staying, 
Bethink   thee ;    can   the  mirth  of  friends,  though 
dear. 
Compensate  for  the  grief  thy  long  delaying 
Costs  the  heart  that  sighs  to  have  thee  here  ? 
Linger  not  long ! 

How  shall  I  watch  for  thee  when  fears  grow  stronger, 
As  night  draws  dark  and  darker  on  the  hill ! 

How^hall  I  weep,  when  I  can  watch  no  longer ! 
O,  art  thou  absent  —  art  thou  absent  still  ? 
Linger  not  long ! 

Haste,  haste  thee  home  into  thy  mountain  dwelling  ! 

Haste  as  a  bird  unto  its  peaceful  nest ! 
Haste  as  a  skiff,  when  tempests  wild  are  swelling, 
,  Flies  to  its  haven  of  securest  rest ! 

Linger  not  lojig ! 

@  (b 


@ —  — 1§)    \ 

EGOTISM,  OR  SELF-LOVE.  157 


NARCISSUS. 

jyarcissvs  Poeticus. 

Language  — EGOTISM,    OR    SELF-LOVE. 

Narcissus  on  the  grassy  verdure  lies  ;         * 
But  while  within  the  crystal  fount  he  tries 
To  quench  his  heat,  he  feels  new  heats  arise  ; 
For,  as  his  own  bright  image  he  surveyed, 
He  fell  in  love  with  the  fantastic  shade ; 
And  o'er  the  fair  resemblance  hung  unmoved, 
Nor  knew,  fond  youth,  it  was  himself  he  loved. 


Some  women  deify  a  friend  ; 

Some  grovel  at  the  shrine  of  pelf; 
A  few  to  heaven  in  worship  bend : 

Jler  idol  is  —  her  own  sweet  self. 


Mrs.  Osgood. 


A  thousand  volumes  in  a  thousand  tongues  enshrine  the 
lessons  of  Experience ; 

Yet  a  man  shall  read  them  all,  and  go  forth  none  the 
wiser. 

If  self-love  lendeth  him  a  glass,  to  color  all  he  conneth, 

Lest  in  the  features  of  another  he  find  his  own  com- 
plexion. 


@  =^^"=@ 


@  — (5) 

158  PATRIOTISM. 


NASTURTIUM. 

Tropceolum  Majus. 

Language  —  PATRIOTISM. 

The  Grefen  Mountaineer  —  the  Stark  of  Bennington  — 
When  on  the  field  his  band  the  Hessians  fought, 

Briefly  he  spoke'  before  the  fight  began  — 

"  Soldiers  !  those  German  gentlemen  are  bought, 

For  four  pounds  eight  and  sevenpence  per  man, 
By  England's  king  —  a  bargain,  as  is  thought. 

Are  we  worth  more  ?     Let's  prove  it  now  we  can  ; 
For  we  must  beat  them,  boys,  ere  set  of  sun, 
Or  Molly  Stark's  a  widow."  —  It  was  done. 

Hallkck. 

Give  me  the  death  of  those 

Who  for  their  country  die  ; 
And  O,  be  mine  like  their  repose 

When  cold  and  low  they  lie. 
Their  loveliest  Mother  JEarth 

Enshrines  the  fallen  brave  ; 
In  her  sweet  lap  who  gave  them  birth 

They  find  their  tranquil  grave. 

MONTOOMERT. 

They  never  fail  who  die 
In  a  great  cause  : 

They  but  augment  the  deep  and  sweeping  thoughts 
Which  overpower  all  others,  and  conduct 
The  world,  at  last,  to  freedom. 


@  © 


@  -  —@ 

DARK    THOUGHTS.  159 


NIGHTSHADE. 

Solanum  JVigrum, 

Language  —  DARK  THOUGJECTS. 

So  farewell  hope,  and  with  hope  farewell  fear, 
Farewell  remorse  ;  all  good  to  me  is  lost ; 
Evil,  be  thou  my  good. 

MlLTON^. 

The  day  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreary  ; 
It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary  ; 
The  vine  still  clings  to  the  mouldering  wall, 
And  at  every  gust  the  dead  leaves  fall, 
And  the  day  is  dark  and  dreary. 

My  life  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreary  ; 
It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary ; 
My  thoughts  still  cling  to  the  mouldering  past. 
And  the  hopes  of  my  youth  fall  thick  on  the  blast, 
And  the  days  are  dark  and  dreary. 

Be  still,  sad  heart,  and  cease  repining ; 
Behind  the  clouds  is  the  sun  still  shining ; 
Your  fate  is  the  common  fate  of  all ; 
In  every  life  some  rain  must  fall, 

Some  days  must  be  dark  and  dreary. 

Longfellow. 


@  =4) 


@  @ 

160  LIVE    NOT    TO    YOURSELF. 


.     LIVE  NOT  TO  YOURSELF. 

On  the  frail  little  stem  in  the  garden  hangs  the 
opening  rose.  ^Go  ask  why  it  hangs  there. 

"  I  hang  here,"  says  the  beautiful  flower,  "  to 
sweeten  the  air  which  man  breathes,  to  open  my 
beauties,  to  kindle  emotion  in  his  eye,  to  show 
him  the  hand  of  his  God,  who  pencilled  each  leaf, 
and  laid  them  thus  on  my  bosom.  And  whether 
you  find  me  here  to  greet  him  every  morning,  or 
whether  you  find  me  on  the  lone  mountain  side, 
with  the  bare  possibility  that  he  will  throw  me 
one  passing  glance,  my  end  is  the  same.  I  live 
not. to  myself." 

Beside  yon  highway  stands  an  aged  tree,  solita- 
ry and  alone.  You  see  no  living  thing  near  it, 
and  you  say.  Surely  that  must  stand  for  itself 
alone.  "  No,"  says  the  tree,  "  God  never  made 
me  for  a  purpose  so  small.  For  more  than  a  hun- 
dred years  I  have  stood  here.  In  summer  I  have 
spread  out  my  arms  and  sheltered  the  panting 
flocks  which  hastened  to  my  shade.  In  my  bo- 
som I  have  concealed  and  protected  the  brood  of 
young  birds,  as  they  lay  and  rocked  in  their  nest ; 
in  the  storm  I  have  more  than  once  received  in 
my  body  the  lightning's  bolt,  which  had  else  de- 
stroyed the  traveller ;  the  acorns  which  I  have  ma- 
tured from  year  to  year  have  been  carried  far  and 
near,  and  groves  of  forest  oaks  can  claim  me  as 

(o)  @ 


LIVE   NOT    TO    YOURSELF.  161 

their  parent.  I  have  lived  for  the  eagle,  which 
has  perched  on  my  top ;  for  the  hummingbird,  that 
has  paused  and  refreshed  its  giddy  wing,  ere  it 
danced  away  again  like  a  blossom  of  the  air ;  for 
the  insect  that  has  found  a  home  within  the  folds 
of  my  bark ;  and  when  I  can  stand  no  longer,  I 
shall  fall  by  the  hand  of  man,  and  shall  go  to 
strengthen  the  ship  which  makes  him  lord  of  the 
ocean,  and  to  his  dwelling,  to  warm  his  hearth  and 
cheer  his  home.     I  live  not  to  myself." 

On  yonder  mountain  side  comes  down  the  sil- 
ver brook,  in  the  distance  resembling  a  ribbon  of 
silver,  running  and  leaping  as  it  dashes  joyously 
and  fearlessly  down.  Go  ask  the  leaper  what  it 
is  doing.  "  I  was  born,"  says  the  brook,  ''  high 
up  in  the  mountain  ;  but  there  I  could  do  no 
good  ;  and  so  I  am  hurrying  down,  running  where 
I  can,  and  leaping  where  I  must ;  but  hastening 
down  to  water  the  sweet  valley,  where  the  lark 
may  sing  on  my  margin,  where  I  may  drive  the 
mill  for  the  accommodation  of  man,  and  then 
widen  into  the  great  river,  and  bear  up  his  steam- 
boats and  shipping,  and  finally  plunge  into  the 
ocean,  to  rise  again  in  vapor,  and  perhaps  come 
back  again  in  the  clouds  to  my  own  native  moun- 
tain, and  live  my  short  life  over  again.  Not  a 
drop  of  water  comes  down  my  channel  in  whose 
bright  face  you  may  not  read,  '  None  of  us  liv- 
eth  to  himself.'  " 

Speak  now  to  that  solitary  star  that  hangs  in 


©. 


11 


II 


162  LIVE   NOT    TO    YOURSELF. 


the  far  verge  of  heaven,  and  ask  the  bright  spar- 
kler what  it  is  doing  there.  Its  voice  comes  down 
the  path  of  life,  and  cries,  "  I  am  a  mighty- 
world.  I  was  stationed  here  at  the  creation.  I 
was  among  the  morning  stars  that  sang  together, 
and  among  the  sons  of  God  that  shouted  for  joy 
at  the  creation  of  the  earth.  Ay,  ay  —  I  was 
there 

*  When  the  radiant  morn  of  creation  broke, 
And  the  world  in  the  smile  of,  God  awoke, 
And  the  empty  realms  of  darkness  and  death 
Were  moved  through  their  depths  by  his  mighty  breath, 
And  the  orbs  of  beauty  and  spheres  of  flame 
From  the  void  abyss  by  myriads  came. 
In  the  joy  of  youth,  as  they  darted  away 
Through  the  widening  wastes  of  space  to  play, 
Their  silver  voices  in  chorus  rung, 
And  this  was  the  song  the  bright  ones  sung.' " 

And  thus  God  has  written  upon  the  flower 
that  sweetens  the  air,  upon  the  breeze  that  rocks 
that  flower  on  its  stem,  upon  the  raindrops  that 
swell  the  mighty  river,  upon  the  dewdrop  that 
refreshes  the  smallest  sprig  of  moss  that  rears  its 
head  in  the  desert,  upon  the  ocean  that  rocks 
every  swimmer  in  its  channel,  upon  every  pen- 
cilled shell  that  sleeps  in  the  caverns  of  the  deep, 
as  well  as  upon  the  mighty  sun  which  warms  and 
cheers  the  millions  of  creatures  that  live  in  his 
light — upon  all  has  he  written,  "  None  of  us  liveth 
to  himself." 

And  if  you  will  read  this  lesson  in  characters 


@: 


@  = 

LIVE    NOT    TO    YOURSELF.  163 

still  more  distinct  and  striking,  you  will  go  to  the 
garden  of  Gethsemane,  and  hear  the  Redeemer 
in  prayer,  while  the  angel  of  God  strengthens  him. 
You  will  read  it  on  the  hill  of  Calvary,  where  a 
voice,  that  might  be  the  concentrated  voice  of  the 
whole  universe  of  God,  proclaims  that  the  highest, 
noblest  deed  which  the  Infinite  can  do,  is  to  do 
good  to  others  —  to  live  not  to  himself. 

Rev.  J.  Todd. 


O,  SWEET  the  jasmine's  buds  of  snow 

In  morning  soft  with  May  ; 
And  sweet,  in  summer's  silent  glow, 

The  brooklet's  merry  play ; 
But  sweeter,  in  that  lovely  place, 

To  God  it  must  have  been 
To  see  the  maiden's  happy  face 

That  blessed  the  home  within. 
Without  the  porch,  I  hear  at  morn 

A  voice  that  sings  for  glee. 
Or  watch  the  white  face  glancing  down 

To  the  book  upon  the  knee. 


=© 


©-  = 

164  WARNING,    OR   BEWARE. 


OLEANDER. 

JVeHum. 

Language  —  WARNING,  OR  BEWARE. 

I  KNOW  a  maiden  fair  to  see ; 

Take  care ! 
She  can  both  false  and  friendly  be ; 

Beware !  beware ! 
Trust  her  not ;  she  is  fooling  thee !  _ 

She  has  two  eyes,  so  soft  and  brown  ; 

Take  care ! 
She  gives  a  side  glance,  and  looks  down ; 

Beware !  beware ! 
Trust  her  not ;  she  is  fooling  thee  ! 

She  gives  thee  a  garland  woven  fair ; 

Take  care ! 
It  is  a  fool's  cap  for  thee  to  wear ; 

Beware!  beware! 
Trust  her  not ;  she  is  fooling  thee ! 

Longfellow. 

Do  any  thing  but  love ;  or,  if  thou  lovest. 
And  art  a  woman,  hide  thy  love  from  him 
Whom  thou  dost  worship.     Never  let  him  know 
How  dear  he  is  ;  flit  like  a  bird  before  him  ; 
Lead  him  from  tree  to  tree,  from  flower  to  flower : 
But  be  not  won ;  or  thou  wilt,  like  that  bird, 
When  caught  and  caged,  be  left  to  pine  neglected, 
And  perish  in  forgetfulness. 

L.  E.  Landon. 

@ 


PEACE.  165 


OLIVE. 
Oka. . 
Language  —  PEACE. 

Peace  seemed  to  reign  upon  earth,  and  the  restless  heart 
of  the  ocean 

Was  for  a  moment  consoled.  All  sounds  were  in  har- 
mony blended. 

Voices  of  children  at  play,  the  crowing  of  cocks  in  the 
farm  yard, 

Whirl  of  wings  in  the  drowsy  air,  and  the  cooing  of 
pigeons, 

All  were  subdued  and  low  as  the  murmurs  of  love,  and 
the  great  sun 

Looked,  with  eye  of  peace,  through  the  golden  vapors 
around  him." 

Longfellow. 

The  sinner  placed  a  verdant  spray 

Within  her  dead  child's  hand, 
And  turned  in  wordless  grief  away  — 

A  lost  one  —  barred  and  banned ! 
In  that  fond  act  were  prayer  and  vow  — 

O,  be  her  guilt  forgiven  ! 
Her  dovelet  bears  an  olive  bough, 

To  make  her  peace  with  Heaven. 

Mrs.  Osgood. 

Peace,  sweet  Peace,  is  ever  found 
In  her  eternal  home,  on  holy  ground. 

Mks.  Embury. 

All  things  that  speak  of  heaven  speak  of  peace. 

Bailet. 

@  (a) 


166  woman's  worth. 


ORANGE  BLOSSOM. 

Citrus  Aurantium. 

Language  —  WOMAN'S   WORTH. 

Ah,  woman  !  in  this  world  of  ours, 

What  gift  can  be  compared  to  thee  ? 
How  slow  would  drag  life's  weary  hours, 
Though  man's  proud  brow  were  bound  with  flowers, 

And  his  the  wealth  of  land  and  sea, 
If  destined  to  exist  alone, 
And  ne'er  call  woman's  heart  his  own. 

Geobob  F.  Mobbis. 

She  wins  me  with  caresses 

From  passion's  dark  defiles  : 
She  guides  me  when  I  falter. 

And  strengthens  me  with  smiles : 
It  may  be,  unseen  angels 

Beside  me  journey  forth ; 
I  know  that  one  is  sitting 

This  moment  by  my  hearth. 

A  loving  wife.     0  brothers, 

An  angel  here  below  ; 
Alas  !  your  eyes  are  holden 

Too  often  till  they  go  ; 
Ye  upward  look  while  grieving, 

When  they  have  passed  from  earth ; 
O,  cherish  well  those  sitting 

This  moment  by  thy  hearth. 

Faitwt  Falks. 

©  =@ 


@ — @ 

PATIENCE.  167 


OXEYE. 

Buphthalinum. 

Language  —PATIENCE. 

To  weary  hearts,  to  mourning  homes, 
God's  meekest  angel  gently  comes  : 
No  power  has  he  to  banish  pain. 
Or  give  us  back  our  lost  again  ; 
And  yet,  in  tenderest  love,  our  dear 
And  heavenly  Father  sends  him  here. 

Tliere's  quiet  in  that  angel's  glance, 
There's  rest  in  his  still  countenance  ! 
He  mocks  no  grief  with  idle  cheer, 
Nor  wounds  with  words  the  mourner's  ear. 
But  ills  and  woes  he  may  not  cure 
He  kindly  Iparns  us  to  endure. 

Angel  of  Patience  !  sent  to  calm 
Our  feverish  brows  with  cooling  palm  ; 
To  lay  the  storms  of  hope  and  fear, 
And  reconcile  life's  smile  and  tear ; 
The  throbs  of  wounded  pride  to  still. 
And  make  our  own  our  Father's  will. 

0,  thou  who  mournest  on  thy  way, 
With  longings  for  the  close  of  day. 
He  walks  with  thee,  that  angel  kind. 
And  gently  whispers,  "  Be  resigned ! " 
Bear  up,  bear  on  ;  the  end  shall  tell 
The  dear  Lord  ordereth  all  things  well ! 


©= 


J.  G.  W. 


168  THE    LISTENER. 


THE  LISTENER. 

STORY    OF   HELEN    CONWAY. 

Once,  in  my  character  of  listener,  I  found 
myself  in  a  large  boarding  school.  Around  me 
were  gathered  more  than  a  hundred  young  girls, 
many  of  them  of  my  own  age,  for  I  had  been 
placed  there  for  other  purposes  than  listening ;  the 
happy  creatures  were  therefore  my  companions  — 
some  of  them  dear  friends,  whom  I  love  to  this 
day,  though  many  years  have  elapsed  since  I  part- 
ed from  them,  and  some  of  the  best  and  dearest 
of  them  are  separated  from  me  by  pathless  seas. 
I  was  very  young  when  placed  in  their  midst,  and  , 
was  hundreds  of  miles  from  the  home  of  my 
childhood ;  it  was  not  strange,  then,  that  I  was 
lonely  and  sick  hearted,  for  tasks  were  set  me 
which  frightened  and  discouraged  me.  I  thought 
that  in  all  that  assembly  no  "  kindly-beaming 
eye  "  fell  on  the  little  stranger,  to  cheer  her  and  in- 
spire her  with  a  hope  of  happiness  in  the  future. 
All  around  me  were  busily  intent  on  arrangements 
for  themselves  for  the  opening  term,  or  greetings 
were  being  exchanged  between  old  scholars,  sepa- 
rated during  the  long  vacations,  and  merry  voices 
gave  utterance  to  merry  hearts ;  the  very  teachers 
seemed  to  speak  to  others  more  winningly  than 
to  me.  ^ 

At  length  my  tasks  were  apportioned  me,  and  I 

@  -(2) 


THE    LISTENER.  169 

was  permitted  to  withdraw.  The  upper  piazza  of 
the  seminary  overlooked  a  lively  little  stream, 
which  gleamed  before  us  a  moment  in  the  sun- 
shine, and  then  went  singing  its  sweet  song 
through  the  shady  woods  which  skirted  the  vil- 
lages. Its  beauty  arrested  my  gaze,  but  not  my 
thoughts  :  they  were  too  sad  to  be  won  by  an  ap- 
peal to  the  eye  only,  and  soon  the  tears  came 
trickling  down  my  cheek,  and  a  sob  told  my 
wretchedness.  At  this  moment  a  gentle  step 
aroused  me,  and  an  arm  passed  over  my  shoulder, 
while  a  soft  voice  said  to  me,  — 

"  Little  friend,  why  do  you  weep  ?  There  is  an 
old  Arabic  proverb  which  says,  '  Running  waters 
make  the  heart  glad ; '  and  can  you  look  upon  that 
merry  brooklet  and  give  way  to  sadness  ?  "  and 
then,  drawing  me  towards  her,  while  she  passed 
her  hand  over  my  forehead,  she  continued,  — 

'^  What  grief  should  thy  years  know  1 
Thy  brow  and  cheek  are  smooth  as  waters  be 
When  no  breath  troubles  them." 

A  beautiful  face,  as  well  as  a  sweet  voice,  had 
this  fair  speaker.  O,  how  I  afterwards  loved 
that  face,  with  its  bright  complexion,  white  fore- 
head, dim  with  the  shadow  of  rich  brown  tresses, 
with  its  full  ruby  lips,  and,  more  than  all,  the 
large,  d^ark,  earnest  eyes,  from  which  "  I  drank  in 
soul!"  ^elen  Conway  was  then  "just  seventeen;" 
she  was  above  the  usual  height  —  some  called  her 


=© 


170  THE    LISTENER. 


too  tall  —  but  her  head  was  so  superbly  moulded, 
her  bearing  so  queenly,  every  movement  so  grace- 
ful, and  this  dignity  was  tempered  with  so  rare  a 
spirit  of  most  delicate  mirth,  that  few  save  the  en- 
vious found  her  height  at  all  detracting  from  her 
perfection. 

She  was  the  only  daughter  of  an  English  gen- 
tleman of  great  wealth,  and  she  had  but  one 
brother,  every  way  worthy  of  Helen.  They  had 
been  motherless  for  many  years,  but  their  father 
had  added  the  tenderness  of  the  lost  parent  to  the 
pride  they  were  so  well  calculated  to  inspire  in  his 
bosom ;  and  certainly  they  were  a  singularly  hap- 
py family. 

The  summer  term  passed  quickly  away,  and  we 
were  busy  in  our  preparations  for  the  annual  ex- 
amination, when  Helen  was  summoned  to  attend 
the  death  bed  of  her  father.  We  heard  from  her 
through  her  letters  to  one  of  the  teachers.  Her 
father's  illness  had  been  partly  the  result  of  anxie- 
ty on  learning  the  loss  of  all  his  landed  property, 
and,  on  his  decease,  his  whole  estate  was  ascer- 
tained to  be  insolvent.  Helen  was  therefore 
unable  to  return  to  school ;  she  was  resolved 
henceforth  to  sustain  herself,  and  for  that  purpose 
must  go  out  among  strangers. 

When  another  term  brought  us  together  again, 
I  learned  that  Helen  Conway,  though  much 
against:  her  brother's  wishes,  had  entered  ai^  Lowell 
factory,  as  an  operative,  to  supply  herself  with  the 

©  @ 


@  @ 

THE    LISTENER.  171 

means  of  finishing  her  education.  To  her  broth- 
er's expostulations  she  had  replied,  — 

"  It  is  no  disgraceful  thing  which  I  would  do, 
Philip,  but  one  most  honorable.  I  would  not 
make  such  employment  a  matter  of  choice,  nor 
would  I  perhaps  seek  such  companions  as  may- 
surround  me ;  but  at  the  worst,  the  employment 
will  not  degrade  me,  nor  the  associates  contami- 
nate, and  I  shall  the  soonest  gain  what  I  require, 
and  I  shall  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that 
I  have  not  fettered  you,  my  dear  Philip,  in  the 
course  you  have  adopted ;  for  impeded  you  would 
be  by  the  maintenance  of  an  indolent,  helpless 
girl." 

With  what  astonishment  was  this  intelligence 
received  by  Helen's  former  schoolmates!  Her 
mild  dignity  had  gained  for  her  the  respect  of  all 
—  her  rare  intellectual  acquirements  had  com- 
manded it,  and  her  amiable  disposition  had  won 
even  the  most  thoughtless;  but  when  all  these 
had  failed,  the  aristocratic  name  she  bore,  and  the 
knowledge  of  her  father's  wealth,  had  been  suffi- 
cient to  gain  an  acknowledgment  of  her  superiori- 
ty. What  was  she  now  ?  "A  factory  girl "  — 
"one  of  the  Lowell  crowd"  —  a  class  always 
placed,  by  the  little  would-be  aristocrats  of  our 
number,  far  below  the  daughters  of  the  retail  gro- 
cer, or  humble  artisan.  In  spite  of  the  circum- 
stances which  had  given  me  my  station  in  the 
"  upper  circle  "  of  our  miniature  world,  this  state 
@r  @ 


®  (o) 

172  THE    LISTENER. 

of  things  had  made  me  most  indignant.  I  did 
combat  bravely  for  Nature's  true  aristocracy ;  and 
I  uphold  it  still  more  warmly  now,  since  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  real  world  has  taught  me  that  fine  ap- 
parelling may  clothe  the  most  unmitigated  vulgari- 
ty, and  a  full  purse  only  aid  its  supercilious  im- 
portance and  ridiculous  pretensions.  The  right  to 
be  aristocratic  —  and  I  hold  there  is  such  a  right 
—  is  one  which  comes  as  a  free  gift  of  Nature ; 
and  this  distinction  I  reverence  next  to  the  rare 
genius  with  which  she  sometimes  endows  her  chil- 
dren. Vulgarity  in  a  palace,  displaying  itself  in 
affections  of  taste  and  refinement,  so  shallow  that 
any  clear  eye  may  discern  their  absurdity,  showing 
itself  also  in  haughty  insolence  towards  inferiors  in 
station  or  worldly  advantages,  and  servility  towards 
those  elevated  by  the  world's  acclaim,  or  by  yet 
greater  wealth,  above  themselves,  is  utterly  more 
despicable  and  revolting  than  the  unconstrained 
vulgarity  of  the  lower  classes.  Very  few  who 
have  the  power  of  gaining  great  wealth  know  how 
to  use  it ;  their  energies  are  too  often  directed 
only  in  one  channel,  and  when  they  have  tightly 
drawn  their  purse  strings  over  the  last-acquired 
dollar,  they  have  resolutely  drawn  closer  the  heart 
strings.  Stifling  all  noble  impulses,  their  head, 
too,  grows  heavy  with  their  hoards,  and  the  high- 
est aspirations  of  their  soul  are  checked,  and  per- 
ish in  the  tainted  atmosphere.  D' Israeli  defines 
"good  breeding" — which  is  necessary  to  aris- 
©  @^ 


THE    LISTENER.  173 


-@ 


tocracy  —  as  "a  genial  regard  for  the  feelings  of 
others,  which  springs  from  an  absence  of  selfish- 
ness ; "  and  how  can  those  whose  hearts  are  hard 
as  their  treasures  hope  to  acquire  it  ? 

But  I  mean  not  to  digress  thus,  and  will  hasten 
to  tell  you  how  my  friend-fared.  The  whole  year 
was  spent  in  toil,  and  its  effect  was  ennobling,  for 
she  was  stimulated  and  incited  by  the  highest  mo- 
tives which  can  influence  our  conduct ;  and  may 
not  the  most  menial  labor  be  rendered  a  proud, 
yea,  a  holy  service,  when  we  toil  for  the  comfort 
and  happiness  of  those  we  love,  for  their  or  our  own 
advancement  in  the  beautiful  love  the  soul  craves? 

Helen's  leisure  hours  were  well  improved ;  the 
boarding-house  piano  was  ever  her  choicest  recrea- 
tion, for  she  had  a  fine  voice  and  a  well-cultivated 
taste  for  music.  A  large  library,  for  the  use  of  the 
operatives  in  the  mills,  supplied  her  with  books 
her  own  little  store  lacked  ;  and  besides  this,  she 
learned  many,  and  to  her  most  strange  lessons  of 
human  nature,  among  her  associates,  until  both 
heart  and  soul  expanded  most  liberally  during  her 
year  at  Lowell. 

At  the  end  of  the  year  she  returned  to  school, 
more  beautiful  far  than  she  had  ever  been,  for  she 
had  learned  to  be  fully  conscious  of  her  own  pecu- 
liar dignity  as  a  woman,  capable  of  self-control 
and  of  self-support.  She  was  more  lovable  than 
ever,  also,  for  her  heart  had  a  warmer  welcome  for 
those  whose  affection  was  tried  and  faithful. 
®-  @ 


(g)  © 

174  THE    LISTENER. 

"  The  sun  of  my  father's  love  has  set,"  said  she 
to  me,  referring,  in  her  own  peculiar  manner,  to  the 
greeting  she  had  received ;  "  but  the  beautiful  stars 
have  begun  to  come  out,  and  lo !  they  are  all  suns, 
too,  giving  light  and  joy  to  other  planets.  He 
was  nearer  to  me  —  so  I  lived  in  his  beams  ;  but 
now,  his  light,  though  not  his  influence,  has  been 
removed  and  merged  in  the  glory  of  God,  of 
which   glory  his   spirit  was  an  emanation." 

All,  however,  were  not  able  or  prepared  to  ap- 
preciate her  conduct ;  and  even  in  her  presence 
some  wobld  speak  contemptuously  of  the  factory 
girl's  life  —  "  of  their  boarding-house  pianos  —  of 
their  libraries,  and  literary  associations."  A  slight 
towards  her  alone  only  gained  from  her  a  smile;  but 
when  she  heard  those  whom  she  had  learned  to  re- 
spect spoken  of  in  this  manner,  she  would  draw  up 
her  queenly  figure,  and  defend  them  with  heart- 
warm  eloquence,  until  the  contemners  quailed 
under  her  just  sarcasms.  Nor  was  this  all  she 
could  do  for  them.  She  wrote  in  their  behalf,  and 
her  pen  did  ample  justice  to  the  subjects  which  in- 
spired it,  and  to  her  own  free   spirit. 

"  I  am  determined  to  put  Helen  Conway 
down!"  said  Eleanor  Sibley,  whose  home  was  in 
one  of  those  proud  mansions  that  overlook  the 
noble  square  which  is  the  pride  of  the  New  Eng- 
land metropolis.  "  One  would  imspgine  her  a  very 
princess,  or,  as  a  republican,  I  suppose  I  must  say, 
*  president's    daughter ; '    she    advances   her  outre 


^ 


THE    LISTENER.  175 


opinions  about  those  Lowell  factory  girls  with 
such  an  air  of  supreme  authority,  as  if  she  said, 
"  YoQ  dare  not  dispute  me  :   I  know  I  am  right." 

"  If  I  am  not  a  president's  daughter,  I  may  be- 
come a  president's  wife  —  who  can  tell  to  the  con- 
trary, Nelly  Sibley  ?  "  and  Helen  advanced,  laugh- 
ingly, from  behind  the  column  which  had  con- 
cealed her  from  our  sight. 

So  they  all  found  out  they  could  not  put  her 
down,  and  then  they  dabbed  her  "  Defender  of 
Operatives'  Rights  "  — ■ "  the  Ebenezer  Elliot  of 
New  England "  —  "  our  Yankee  Hewitt,"  &c. 
"  Noble  titles  ! "  she  would  say,  with  perfect  good 
humor.  "  Don't  you  think,  young  ladies,  I  could 
plead  well  for  you  when  August  comes  ?  "  And 
truly,  when  the  day  came  for  the  distribution  of 
honors,  Helen  received  from  the  school,  by  unani- 
mous award,  the  highest  they  could  bestow  —  an 
address  to  be  read  before  the  friends  of  the  school 
in  behalf  of  an  education  society  which  they  had 
established  among  them,  and  Eleanor  Sibley  was 
deputed  to  inform  her  of  their  choice  ! 

Helen 'Conway  left  school,  and  became  a  teach- 
er. For  three  years  she  toiled  in  her  honorable 
but  laborious  vocation,  and  then  she  was  married 
to  one  who  had  long  loved  her.  If  I  dared  tell 
you  her  husbund's  name,  you  would  recognize  it 
at  once  as  one  very  familiar  to  you,  for  he  is  a 
member  of  Congress  —  eloquent,  patriotic,  and 
high-souled ! 


@ 

176  THE    LISTENER. 


Now,  "  who  can  tell  but  Helen  Conway  will 
one  day  be  a  president's  wife  ?  "  Of  all  in  that 
school,  not  one  has  a  fairer  chance  of  attaining 
that  station ;  and  will  not  the  "  factory  girl "  do 
the    honors    of    the    White    House   with    superb 


grace  ? 


Then  cherish  her  dearly, 

And  love  her  sincerely, 
Be  faithful,  indulgent,  and  kind  ; 

Make  not  a  slight  failing 

A  pretext  for  railing, 
If  such  you  should  happen  to  find. 

O,  do  not  misuse  her ; 

And  never  refuse  her, 
When  proper  her  wishes  may  be ; 

And  thy  cost,  care,  and  trouble. 

She'll  recompense  double, 
By  the  kindness  she'll  lavish  on  thee. 


©^ 


@  =(o) 

WILT   THOU    GO.  177 


PEA,  EVERLASTING. 

Lathyrus  Latifolia. 

Language  —  WILT  THOU  GO? 

O,  WILT  thou  go  with  me,  love, 
And  seek  the  lonely  glen  ? 

O,  wilt  thou  leave  for  me,  love, 
The  smiles  of  other  men  ? 

And  wilt  thou  go  with  me,  dear, 
And  share  my  humble  lot? 

And  wilt  thou  live  with  me,  dear, 
Within  a  lowly  cot  ? 


Pkbcival. 


ANSWER.  ^ 

With  thee'^ —  Life  hath  a  stormy  sea,  — 

I  cannot  know  thy  path, 
And  how  shall  I  dare,  in  a  bark  with  thee, 

Venture  its  ocean  wrath  ? 

With  thee  centre  my  all  of  hope  ? 

Centre  my  all  of  life  ? 
"Wilt  thou  teach  me  strength  with  its  ills  to  cope  ? 

Love  me  through  all  its  strife  ? 

"With  thee  —  bearing  thy  joy  or  thrall  ? 

With  thee,  through  all  unknown, 
Trusting  my  heart,  my  faith,  my  all, 

Living  for  thee  alone  ? 

Yes  !  clasping  thy  hand  for  ay  and  ay, 

Though  dark  and  rough  life's  sea. 
With  thy  light  bark  steering  the  heavenward  way, 

I'll  gladly  go  with  thee.  aknie  tkiflee. 

12 


(o)  ^  ©     j 

178  DEPARTURE. 


PEA,  SWEET. 

Lathyrus  Odoratus. 

Language  —  DEPARTURE. 

I  MUST  leave  thee,  lady  sweet ! 
»         Months  shall  waste  before  we  meet ; 
Winds  are  fair,  and  sails  are  spread, 

Anchors  leave  their  ocean  bed ; 
Ere  this  shining  day  grow  dark. 

Skies  shall  gird  my  shoreless  bark ; 
Through  thy  tears,  0  lady  mine, 
Re'ad  thy  lover's  parting  line. 

O.  W.  Holmes. 

Allah  bless  thee,  gentle  stranger. 
Through  the  desert's  path  of  danger. 
Save  thee  from  the  lightning's  glance, 
From  the  prowling  robber's  lance. 
From  the  sandy  column's  heap. 
From  the  fiery  simoom's  sweep. 

Allah  bless  thee! 
Then  fare  thee  well,  and  with  thee  bear 
The  Arab's  wish,  the  Arab's  prayer. 
When  the  mosque  its  tower  is  rearing. 
O'er  thy  native  fields  appearing. 
When  thy  friends  around  thee  press, 
And  thy  eldest  born^caress, 
And  thy  faithful  Selia's  kiss 
Gives  thy  soul  her  sweetest  bliss, 

Allah  bless  thee ! 
The  Arab  then  thy  joys  will  share, 
Fulfilled  his  wish,  fulfilled  his  prayer.  awow. 

©  -@ 


EARLY   FRIENDSHIP.  179 

PERIWINKLE.  - 

Vinca  Minor. 

Language  — EARLY  ERIENDSHIP. 

THA.NKS  to  my  stars,  I  have  not  ranged  about 
The  wilds  of  life  ere  I  could  find  a  friend ; 
Nature  first  pointed  out  my  brother  to  me, 
And  early  taught  me,  by  her  sacred  force. 
To  love  thy  person  ere  I  knew  thy  merits, 
Till  what  was  instinct  grew  up  into  friendship. 
Ours  has  severest  virtue  for  its  basis. 
And  such  a  friendship  ends  not  but  with  life. 

.    Addison-. 

Friendship  is  no  plant  of  hasty  growth  ; 
Though  planted  in  esteem's  deep-fixed  soil, 
The  gradual  culture  of  kind  intercourse 
Must  bring  it  to  perfection. 

Joanna  Baillie. 

True  happiness 
Consists  not  in  the  multitude  of  friends, 
But  in  the  worth  and  choice ;  nor  would  I  have 
Virtue  a  popular  regard  pursue  : 
Let  them  be  good  that  love  me,  though  but  few. 

JoKsoir. 

A  friend  is  gold ;  if  true,  he'll  never  leave  thee ; 
Yet  both,  without  a  touchstone,  may  deceive  thee. 


©—  —  @ 


@ (o) 

180  ELEGANCE    WITHOUT    PRIDE. 


PETUNIA. 

Petunia  Variegatus. 

Language  —  ELEGANCE    WITHOUT   PRIDE. 

Thou  art  not  proud,  though  beauty's  gifts, 

Her  fairest,  richest  gifts,  are  thine ; 
And  on  thy  brow,  —  the  throne  of  thought,  — 

Like  gleams  of  light,  thy  tresses  shine. 
Still  unassuming  are  thy  ways. 

Still  kindly  words  hast  thou  for  all ; 
The  lowly  bless  thy  sunny  smile  — 

The  same  in  cottajje  as  in  hall. 


D.  H.  Jaques. 


In  peasant  life  we  might  have  known 

As  fair  a  face,  as  sweet  a  tone ; 
But  village  notes  could  ne'er  supply 

That  rich  and  varied  melody. 
And  ne'er  in  cottage  maid  was  seen 

The  easy  dignity  of  mien. 
Claiming  respect,  yet  waiving  state, 

That  marks  the  daughters  of  the  great. 


Scott 


So  gently  blending  courtesy  and  art 

That  wisdom's  lips  seemed  borrowing  friendship's  heart. 

O.  W.  Holmes. 

Where  the  meekness  of  self-knowledge  veileth  the  front 

of  self-respect, 
There  look  thou  for  the  man  whose  name  none  can  know 

but  they  will  honor. 

TUPPKB. 

(o)  @ 


@: 


:@ 


OUR    SOULS    ARE    UNITED. 


181 


PHLOX. 

PJdox  Macuhta, 

Language— -OUR  SOULS  ARE  UNITED. 

My  bride, 
My  wife,  my  life !    O,  we  will  walk  this  world, 

Yoked  in  all  exercise  of  noble  aim, 
And  so  through  those  dark  gates  across  the  wild. 

That  no  man  knows. 

TENxrsoir. 

There  are  two  hearts,  whose  movements  thrill 

In  unison  so  closely  sweet. 
That  pulse  to  pulse,  responsive  still. 

They  both  must  heave  —  or  cease  to  beat. 

There  are  two  souls,  whose  equal  flow 

In  gentle  streams  so  calmly  run. 
That  when  they  part They  part  ?   Ah,  no ! 

They  cannot  part  —  those  souls  are  one. 

Baetok. 

Once  my  soul  was  fondly  plighted 

To  a  holy  one  of  earth  — 
Like  two  music  notes  united, 

Notes  that  severed  in  their  birth. 
Yet  not  severed  we,  though  parted, 

Still  in  truth  our  souls  are  one, 
Though  on  earth  the  gentle-hearted 

Hath  her  blessed  mission  done. 


©-- 


^ 


@ 

182  AVERSION. 


PINK,  CHINA. 

Dianthus  Variegatus. 

Language —AVEESION. 

If  I  am  fair,  'tis  for  myself  alone ; 

I  do  not  wish  to  have  a  sweetheart  near  me, 
Nor  would  I  call  another's  heart  my  own. 

Nor  have  a  gallant  lover  to  revere  me  ; 
For  surely  I  would  plight  my  faith  to  none, 

Though  many  an  amorous  wit  might  jump  to  hear  me; 
For  I  have  heard  that  lovers  prove  deceivers. 
When  once  they  find  that  maidens  are  believers. 

Michel  Anoelo. 

Do  I  not  in  plainest  truth 
Tell  you  —  I  do  not,  nor  I  cannot,  love  you  ? 

Shakspeake. 

Nay,  if  she  love  me  not,  I  care  not  for  her : 

Shall  I  look  pale  because  the  maiden  blooms  ? 

Or  sigh  because  she  smiles  on  others  ? 

Not  I,  by  Heaven !     I  hold  my  peace  too  dear, 

To  let  it,  like  the  plume  upon  her  cap. 

Shake  at  each  nod  that  her  caprice  shall  dictate. 

Old  Plat.   Aktiquakt, 


©  @ 


@-  (5) 

woman's  love.  183 

PINK,  RED. 

Dianthus  Rubeus. 

Language  — WOMAN'S  LOVE. 

To  clieer  thy  sickness,  watch  thy  health  — 
Partake,  but,never  waste  thy  wealth  — 
Or  stand  with  smiles  unmurmuring  by, 
And  lighten  half  thy  poverty  ! 

Byeon. 

All  day,  like  some  sweet  bird,  content  to  sing 
.    In  its  small  cage,  she  moveth  to  and  fro ; 
And  ever  and  anon  will  upward  spring 

To  her  sweet  lips,  fresh  from  the  fount  below, 
The  murmured  melody  of  pleasant  thought, 
Light  household  duties,  evermore  inwrought 
With  pleasant  fancies  of  one  trusting  heart. 
That  lives  but  in  her  smile,  and  ever  turns 
To  be  refreshed  where  one  pure  altar  burns ; 
Shut  out  from  hence  the  mockery  of  life. 
Thus  liveth  she  content,  the  meek,  fond;  trusting  wife. 

Mks.  E.  Oakes  Smith. 

Thou  wast  my  nurse   in  sickness,  and  my  comforter  in 

health  ; 
So  gentle  and  so  constant,  when  our  love  was  all  our 

wealth ; 
Thy  voice  of  music  soothed  me,  love,  in  each  desponding 

hour, 
As  heaven's  honey-dew  consoles  the  bruised  and  broken 

flower. 

Albert  Fikb. 


@  (o) 

184  FAIR   AND    FASCINATING. 


PINK,  WHITE. 

Dianthus  Alhus. 

Language  — FAIR  AND  FASCINATING. 

What  right  have  you,  madam,  gazing  in  your  shining 
mirror  daily, 
Getting  so  by  heart  your  beauty,  which  all  others  must 
adore, 
While  you  draw  the  golden  ringlets  down  your  fingers,  to 
vow  gayly, 
You  wiU  wed  no  man  that's  good  to  God — and  nothing 
more? 

Miss  Barbett. 

You'll  speed  your  conquering  way,  I  trow, 

Through  hearts,  however  narrow  ; 
Those  lips  are  Cupid's  graceful  bow. 

That  smile  his  sunlit  arrow. 

Mrs.  Osgood. 

Our  witches  are  no  longer  old 

And  wrinkled  beldams,  Satan-sold, 

But  young,  and  gay,  and  laughing  creatures. 

With  the  heart's  sunshine  on  their  features ; 

Their  sorcery  —  the  light  which  dances 

When  the  raised  Ud  unveils  its  glances. 

And  the  low-breathed  and  gentle  tone 

Faintly  responding  unto  ours. 
Soft,  dream-like  as  a  fairy's  moan. 

Above  its  nightly-closing  flowers. 

Whittiee. 

(o)  @ 


@-- 


EVANESCENCE. 


■-@ 


185 


POPPY,  RED. 

Papaver  RJieas, 

Language  —  EVANESCENCE. 

Pleasures  are  like  poppies  spread ; 
You  seize  the  flower,  the  bloom  is  shed. 

Dawn,  gentle  flower, 

From  the  morning  earth ! 

"We  will  gaze  and  wonder 
At  thy  wondrous  birth ! 

Bloom,  gentle  flower ! 

Lover  of  the  light, 
Sought  by  wind  and  shower, 

Fondled  by  the  night. 

Fade,  gentle  flower  ! 

All  thy  white  leaves  close ; 
Having  shown  thy  beauty, 

Time  'tis  for  repose. 

Die,  gentle  flower. 

In  the  silent  sun  ! 
So,  —  all  pangs  are  over, 

All  thy  tasks  are  done  ! 

Day  hath  no  more  glory. 
Though  he  soars  so  high  ; 

Thine  is  all  man's  story  — 
Live,  and  love,  and  die  1 


Burns, 


Pboctoe. 


@: 


:@ 


186  OBLIVION   IN    SLEEP. 


POPPY,  WHITE. 

Papaver  Somniferum. 

Language  —  OBLIVION  IN  SLEEP. 

You  can  cliarm  to  sleep  the  physical  powers 
With  the  oil  distilled  from  a  poppy's  leaves  ; 

Say,  can  your  science  find  us  flowers 

Whose  magic  may  hush  a  heart  that  grieves  ? 

Mes.  Osgood. 

I  can  give  to  this  saddened  breast 
Many  an  hour  of  happy  rest ; 
On  his  eyes  I  will  lay  a  dream, 
And  all  things  beautiful  shall  seem ; 
The  curtains  of  his  couch  shall  be 
Forgetfulness  of  misery ; 
The  night  winds  to  his  charmed  ear 
Shall  sound  like  words  he  loves  to  hear  ; 
And  Love  shall  fan  his  aching  brow, 
And  sing  of  peace  in  accents  low  ; 
Him  Pity,  with  a  fond  caress. 
Shall  gently  to  her  bosom  press  : 
Thus  in  sweet  slumbers,  free  from  pain, 
Ilis  smiles  shall  all  come  back  again. 

Fkom  the  S\rEDiSH  OF  Fbedeeika  Bremek. 

My  eyes  make  pictures  when  they're  shut : 

I  see  a  fountain  large  and  fair, 
A  willow  and  a  ruined  hut, 

And  thee,  and  me,  and  Mary  there. 
O  Mary,  make  thy  gentle  lap  our  pillow ; 
Bend  o'er  us,  like  a  bower,  my  beautiful  green  willow. 

Coleridge. 


=@ 


MODEST    WORTH. 


187 


PRIMROSE. 

Primula. 

Language  —  MODEST   WORTH. 

And  while  "  Lord  !  Lord !  "  the  pious  tyrants  cried 
Who  in  the  poor  their  Master  crucified, 
His  daily  prayer,  far  better  understood 
In  acts  than  words,  was  simply  doing  good. 

Whittibk. 

Abou  Ben  Adheim  (may  his  tribe  increase)     • 

Awoke  one  night  from  a  deep  dream  of  peace, 

And  saw,  within  the  moonlight  in  his  room. 

Making  it  rich  and  like  a  lily  in  bloom. 

An  angel  writing  in  a  book  of  gold. 

Exceeding  peace  had  made  Ben  Adheim  bold. 

And  to  the  presence  in  his  room  he  said, 

"  What  writest  thou  ?  "     The  vision  raised  its  head. 

And,  with  a  look  made  all  of  sweet  accord. 

Answered,  "  The  names  of  those  who  love  the  Lord." 

"  And  is  mine  one  ?  "  said  Adheim.    "  Nay,  not  so," 

Replied  the  angel.     Abou  spoke  more  low. 

But  cheerly  still,  and  said,  "  I  pray  thee,  then. 

Write  me  as  one  who  loves  his  fellow-men." 

The  angel  came  again,  next  night. 

With  a  long  train  of  wakening  light. 

And  showed  the  names  whom  love  of  God  had  blessed, 

And  lo  !  Ben  Adheim's  name  led  all  the  kest. 

Leigh  Hunt. 


-■© 


188  INCONSTANCY. 


PRIMROSE,  EVENING. 

(Enothera  Odorata. 

Language  —  INCONSTANCY. 

I  SUNNED  myself  once  in  her  smile : 
She  has  turned  its  soft  beams  upon  one 

Who  cares  not  a  pin  for  her ;  while 
He  triumphs,  and  I  am  undone. 

I  lived  on  the  sweets  of  her  lips  ; 

I  must  seek  for  a  supper  elsewhere : 
Another  that  banquet  may  sip  ; 

Another  may  play  with  her  hair. 

And  why  is  my  rival  so  dear  ? 

And  why  is  she  out  when  I  call  ? 
His  income's  five  thousand  a  year  ! 

And  mine,  it  is  —  nothing  at  all ! 

Mrs.  Osgood. 

And  was  it  for  this  I  looked  forward  so  long, 
And  shrunk  from  the  sweetness  of  Italy's  song. 
And  turned  from  the  glance  of  the  dark  girl  of  Spain, 
And  wept  for  my  country  again  and  again  ? 

And  was  it  (or  this  to  my  casement  I  crept 
To  gaze  on  the  deep  when  I  dreamed  that  I  slept  ? 
To  think  of  fond  meetings  —  the  welcome  —  the  kiss  — 
The  friendly  hand's  pressure  —  ah !  was  it  for  this  ? 

T.  H.  Bayley. 


©: 


@ 

INFLUENCE    OF    AN    ELDER    SISTER.  189 


INFLUENCE  OF  AN  ELDER  SISTER. 

Among  the  many  topics  which  have,  within  a 
few  years,  been  brought  more  before  the  public 
mind  than  formerly,  female  influence  holds  a 
prominent  place.  Much  has  been  said  of  it  as 
exerted  by  mothers  and  teachers,  and  it  is  a  most 
cheering  circumstance  that  the  efforts  to  lead 
those  who  sustain  these  relations  to  see  and  feel 
their  responsibility  have  not  been  made  w^ithout 
success.  There  is,  however,  one  class  of  the  fe- 
male community  which  has,  I  think,  been  too 
much  overlooked,  and  of  whose  influence  less  has 
been  said  than  of  almost  any  other.  I  refer  to  the 
influence  of  an  elder  sister. 

No  one,  who  has  mingled  much  with  the  world, 
can  have  failed  to  notice  the  difference  existing 
between  families,  as  regards  the  harmony  which 
prevails  among  their  members ;  and  almost  every 
one  has  observed  the  different  feelings  with  which 
young  men,  after  having  left  the  paternal  roof,  re- 
gard the  home  of  their  childhood.  Undoubtedly 
much  of  this  difference  is  owing  to  a  father's  ex- 
ample, and  a  mother's  moulding  hand;  yet  much, 
very  much,  depends  on  the  sister. 

And  we  can  easily  see  how  this  is  the  case.  A 
young  man  leaves  home  to  engage  in  the  busi- 
ness of  one  of  our  large  commercial  cities.  He 
has  previously  been  under  the  judicious  parental 

(2)= @ 


190  INFLUENCE    OF    AN    ELDER    SISTER. 

restraint  of  a  Christian  family,  and  has  ever  been 
surrounded  by  religious  influence.  He  leaves  all 
this,  and  finds  himself  almost  overcome  by  the 
many  temptations  which  press  upon  him.  His 
youthful  impressions  remain  unaffected  for  some 
time,  and  he  stands  firm,  resolutely  resisting  all  at- 
tempts to  lead  him  astray.  The  usual  cares  de- 
volving upon  the  head  of  a  family  must  necessarily 
prevent  his  parents  from  writing  often  to  him ;  and 
as,  like  all  others  of  the  human  race,  he  needs  "  line 
upon  line  and  precept  upon  precept,"  the  young 
man  is  in  great  danger  of  yielding  to  sin.  Now, 
let  the  letter  of  a  refined,  intelligent,  beloved  sister 
come  to  him  weekly,  full  of  the  little  details, 
which,  though  trifling  in  themselves,  are  neverthe- 
less calculated  to  keep  alive  in  his  breast  a  strong 
interest  in  the  family  circle,  and  he  is  probably 
saved  from  the  gulf  of  a  ruin  into  which  too 
many  plunge. 

During  a  long  life,  it  has  been  my  lot  to  reside 
many  years  near  one  of  our  principal  colleges,  and 
often  have  I  been  struck  with  admiration  at  the 
gentle,  but  all-constraining,  influence  of  a  sister's 
love  on  those  who,  from  natural  levity  of  spirit, 
or  from  habits  of  dissipation,  seemed  perfectly 
reckless.  On  one  occasion  a  rebellion  seemed  just 
ready  to  break  out  among  the  students.  One  of 
them,  a  wild  youth,  was  besought  by  an  intimate 
elderly  friend  not  to  commit  himself  in  any  way 
with  the  disaffected  party,  but,  as  he  saw  the  cloud 

(9  = 


.(O) 


INFLUENCE    OF    AN    ELDER    SISTER. 


191 


was  about  to  burst,  to  retire  to  his  own  apartment. 
"  Don't  ask  me,  Mrs.  G. ;  I  can't  stay  in  my  room," 
was  his  reply.  In  vain  was  he  reminded  that,  ex- 
pelled from  that  institution,  he  coul^  never  enter 
another  —  that  this  step  might,  and  probably 
would,  shade  all  his  future  prospects  in  life.  "  It 
would  be  glorious  to  be  expelled  in  such  a  cause 
—  I  should  never  regret  it  if  I  were  sent  home  to- 
morrow," said  he.  The  good  lady,  as  a  last  re- 
sort, exclaimed,  "  But  your  sisters,  who  take  so 
much  pride  and  pleasure  in  your  well  doing,  how 
will  they  feel  at  the  disgrace  of  their  brother  ? " 
He  was  silent  for  some  minutes,  then,  rising,  said, 
"  You  have  conquered,  madam.  I  could  never 
see  sister  Julia  again.  I  shall  not  leave  my  room 
to-night,  happen  what  will."  And  he  kept  his 
word.  That  week  witnessed  the  expulsion  of 
several  of  George  B.'s  most  intimate  friends ;  yet 
he  stood  firm,  and  lives  an  ornament  to  his  coun- 
try, to  bless  God  for  a  sister's  love. 

Yet  it  is  as  an  active  Christian  that  the  influ- 
ence of  a  sister  is  most  deeply  felt.  "  Never," 
said  a  foreign  missionary  now  in  heaven  —  "  never 
did  I  feel  the  reality  of  religion  till  I  saw  it  trans- 
forming my  proud,  though  kind  and  affectionate, 
elder  sister  into  a  meek  and  humble  Christian. 
Then,  indeed,  I  saw  its  power,  and  felt  that  the 
efficacy  was  of  God."  The  parents  of  this  young 
man  were  active,  devoted  children  of  God,  and 
they  had  acted  on  the  principle  that  their  eldest 


@  @ 

192  INFLUENCE    OP   AN    ELDER    SISTER. 

daughter  was  to  assist  them  in  forming  the  char- 
acters of  their  younger  offspring.  They  were  not 
disappointed.  The  younger  members  of  the  fami- 
ly "  rise  up  and  call  her  blessed  ;  her  husband,  also, 
and  he  praiseth  her;"  for,  by  thus  -  doing  good  in 
her  youth,  she  is  better  prepared  to  act  her  part  as 
a  wife  and  mother. 

If  it  be  true  that  a  sister's  influence  is  so  very 
important,  ought  not  parents  to  feel,  while  training 
their  eldest  daughter,  that  (instead  of  being  in- 
dulged because  she  is  the  eldest,  as  is  too  often 
the  case)  she  should  be  more  carefully  watched 
over,  more  strictly  disciplined,  and  that,  in  educat- 
ing aright  this  child,  they  are  lightening  their 
future  burden  ?  And  shall  not  the  daughters  of 
our  land  feel  that  upon  them  rests,  in  some  meas- 
ure, the  responsibility  of  forming  the  characters  of 
their  brothers  ?  O,  shall  they  not  come  up  to  the 
labor  which  devolves  upon  them,  and  so  live  and 
act,  that  the  generation  now  coming  upon  the 
stage  of  action  shall  be  one  which  shall  be  emi- 
nently virtuous  and  holy  —  one  which  God  will 
delight  to  bless? 

Watchman  of  the  South. 


(§): 


@  @ 

SIMPLICITY.  193 


ROSE,  BURGUNDY. 

Rosa  Parvifolia. 

Language  —  SIMPLICITY. 

The  timid  fawn  is  not  more  mild, 

Nor  yet  more  gay  and  free  ; 
The  lily's  cup  is  not  more  pure,  ^ 

In  all  its  purity  ;  — 
Of  all  the  wildfiowers  in  the  wood, 

Or  by  the  crystal  water, 
There's  none  more  pure  or  fair  than  she  — 

The  farmer's  peerless  daughter  ! 
Then  tell  me  not  of  jewelled  fair  : 

The  brightest  jewel  yet 
Is  the  heart  where  virtue  dwells 

And  innocence  is  set. 
The  glow  of  health  upon  her  cheek, 

The  grace  no  rule  hath  taught  her, 
The  fairest  wreath  that  beauty  twines 

Is  for  the  farmer's  daughter. 

Anon. 

Give  me  a  look,  give  me  a  face 
That  makes  simplicity  a  grace  ; 
Robes  loosely  flowing,  hair  as  free  ; 
Such  sweet  neglect  more  taketh  me 
Than  all  the  adulteries  of  art, 
That  strike  my  eyes,  but  not  my  heart. 

Ben  Jonson. 

The  bearing  and  the  training  of  a  child 
Is  woman's  wisdom. 


©= 


13 


©  (o) 

194  HAPPY    LOVE, 


ROSE,  BRIDAL. 

Rvbus  Rosafolius.  . 

Language  —  HAPPY  LOVE. 

Companion,  counsel,  friend,  and  wife, 
Through  twenty  years  of  wedded  life  ! 

Dear  love,  sweetheart  —  why  not  address 
Warm  words  to  thee,  my  hope  and  pride  ? 

I  have  not  lived  to  love  thee  less 
Than  when  I  hailed  a  fair  young  bride. 

We've  toiled  together  side  by  side. 
Proud  —  yet  it  was  no  selfish  pride  — 

That  toil  brought  honor,  if  no  wealth ; 
Our  hearts  have  gathered  little  rust ;  | 

But  ours  are  peace,  and  hope,  and  health. 
And  mutual  love  and  mutual  trust ! 

And  beauty  in  that  happy  face 
The  husband  lover  still  can  trace  ; 

Goodness,  and  gentleness,  and  truth 
May  live  to  mock  at  change  and  time  ; 

They  were  the  graces  of  thy  youth  — 
They  are  the  graces  of  thy  prime. 

Ah,  more  than  twenty  years  ago, 

I  hoped,  where  now  I  feel  and  know  ! 

Older  thou  art  —  yet  I  can  see 
No  change  impair  thy  cheek  and  brow, 

No  early  beauty  fade  from  thee  : 
And  am  I  less  a  lover  now  ? 


© 


•  LOVE    IS    DANGEROUS.  195 


ROSE,  CAROLINA. 

Rosa  Carolina. 

Language  — LOVE   IS   DANGEROUS. 

Love  is  like  the  singing  bird  — 

He  will  sit  and  sigh 
Tender  tales  in  summer  time, 

'Neath  a  cloudless  sky. 

He  will  sing  all  day  to  thee, 

When  the  flowers  are  gay ; 
But  when  dreary  winter  comes. 

He  hath  flown  away. 

Wait  you,  then,  in  vain  to  hear 

His  melodious  tone ; 
Other  ears  receive  the  vows 

Once  you  thought  your  own. 

Love  is  like  the  honey  bee, 

Ever  on  the  wing. 
Gathering  sweets  from  every  flower, 

With  a  poisoned  sting. 

Don't  believe  him,  lady  fair ; 

List  not  to  his  strain  ; 
Or,  alas  !  too  late  thou'lt  know 

That  his  vows  are  vain. 

Marie  Roseait. 


i 


:© 


196  '  GRACE. 


ROSE,  MULTIFLORA. 

Rosa  MultijlGra. 

Language  —  GRACE. 

Her  grace  of  motion,  and  of  look,  the  smooth 
And  swimming  majesty  of  step  and  tread, 
The  symmetry  of  form  and  feature,  set 
The  soul  afloat,  even  like  delicious  airs 
Of  flute  and  harp. 

MiLMAN. 

"Why,  a  stranger  —  m' hen  he  sees  her 
In  the  street  even  —  smileth  stilly, 
Just  as  you  would  at  a  lily. 

Miss  Baeeett. 

Such  harmony  in  motion,  speech,  and  air, 
That,  without  fairness,  she  was  more  than  fair. 

Crabbk. 

Her  even  carriage  is  as  far  from  coyness. 
As  from  immodesty  ;  in  play,  in  dancing. 
In  suffering  courtship,  in  requiting  kindness, 
In  use  of  places,  hours,  and  companions. 
Free  as  the  sun,  and  nothing  more  corrupted ; 
As  circumspect  as  Cynthia  in  her  vows. 
And  constant  as  the  centre  to  observe  them. 

G.  Chapmast. 

Observe  with  care,  politeness,  that  must  teach 
The  modish  forms  of  gesture  and  of  speech  ; 
She  moves  with  easy  though  with  measured  pace, 
And  shows  no  part  of  study  but  the  grace. 

Stilungflket. 


=@ 


@  @ 

MIRTHFULNESS.  197 


ROSE  VERSICOLOR. 

Rosa  Mundi. 

Language  —MIRTHFULNESS. 

The  merry  heart,  the  merry  heart, 

Of  Heaven's  gifts  I  hold  thee  best ; 
And  those  who  feel  its  pleasant  throb. 

Though  dark  their  lot,  are  truly  blest. 
From  youth  to  age  it  changes  not, 

In  joy  and  sorrow  still  the  same ; 
"When  skies  are  dark,  and  tempests  scowl, 

It  shines  a  steady  beacon  flame. 
It  gives  to  beauty  half  its  power. 

The  nameless  charms  worth  all  the  rest 
The  light  that  dances  o'er  a  face, 

And  speaks  of  sunshine  in  the  breast : 
If  Beauty  ne'er  have  set  her  seal. 

It  well  supplies  her  absence  too, 
And  many  a  cheek  looks  passing  fair, 

Because  a  merry  heart  shines  through. 

A  little  of  thy  merriment. 

Of  thy  sparkling,  light  content, 

Give  me,  my  cheerful  brook, 
That  I  may  still  be  full  of  glee 
And  gladsomeness  where'er  I  be, 
Though  fickle  fate  hath  prisoned  me 
*        In  some  neo;lected  nook. 


J.  R.  Lowell. 


@: 


198  CHARMING. 


ROSE,  MUSK. 

Rosa  Mpschata. 

Language  —  CHARMING. 

It  is  not  mirth ;  for  mirtli  she  is  too  still ; 
It  is  not  wit,  which  leaves  the  heart  more  chill ; 
But  that  continuous  sweetness  which,  with  ease, 
Pleases  all  round  it  from  the  wish  to  please. 

Such  was  Zuleika !  such  around  her  shone 

The  nameless  charms  unmasked  by  her  alone : 

The  light  of  love,  the  purity  of  grace, 

The  mind,  the  music  breathing  from  her  face. 

The  heart  whose  softness  harmonized  the  whole  — 

And  O,  that  eye  was  in  itself  a  soul ! 

Bteoit. 

The  ruffling  bird  of  Juno, 

The  wren  in  the  old  wall. 
Each  knew  her  sweet  persuasiveness. 

And  came  at  her  soft  call. 


Mrs.  Hale. 


Time's  wing  but  seemed,  in  stealing  o'er. 
To  leave  her  lovelier  than  before. 

Die  when  you  will,  you  need  not  wear. 
At  heaven's  court,  a  form  more  fair 

Than  beauty  at  your  birth  has  given  ; 
Keep  but  the  lips,  the  eyes  we  see. 
The  voice  we  hear,  and  you  will  be 

An  angel  ready-made  for  heaven. 


:@ 


@^ 


SUPERIOR    MERIT.  199 


©^ 


ROSE,  MOSS. 

Rosa  Muscosa. 

Language  —  SUPERIOR  MERIT. 

Fondly  the  wheeling  fireflies  flew  around  her, 
Those  little  glitterers  of  the  London  night ; 

But  none  of  these  possessed  a  sting  to  wound  her  — 
She  was  a  pitch  beyond  a  coxcomb's  flight. 

Byeox. 

It  is  sure, 
Stamped  by  the  seal  of  nature,  that  the  well 
Of  mind,  where  all  its  waters  gather  pure, 
Shall,  with  unquestioned  spell,  all  hearts  allure. 
Wisdom  enshrined  in  Beauty  —  O,  how  high 
The  order  of  that  loveliness ! 

Pekcival. 

Ah,  friend  !  to  dazzle  let  the  vain  design  ; 

To  raise  the  thought,  and  touch  the  heart,  be  thine! 

This  charm  will  grow,  while  that  fiitigues  the  ring. 

Flaunts  and  goes  down,  an  unregarded  thing. 

So,  when  the  sun's  broad  beam  has  tired  the  sight, 

All  mild  ascends  the  moon's  more  sober  light ; 

Serene  in  virgin  modesty  she  shines. 

And  unobserved  the  glaring  orb  declines. 

Pope. 

All  that  hath  been  majestical 

In  life  or  death,  since  time  began, 

Is  native  in  the  simple  heart  of  all  — 
The  angel  heart  of  man. 

J.  R  Lowell. 


200  CONFESSION    OF    LOVE. 

ROSEBUD,  MOSS. 

Rosa  Muscosa. 

Language  — CONFESSION   OF  LOVE. 

In  my  heart  there  is  a  holy  spot, 

As  'mid  the  waste  an  isle  of  fount  and  palm, 
Forever  green !    the  world's  breath  enters  not ; 

The  passion  tempest  may  not  break  its  calm : 
'Tis  thine,  all  thine. 

Mrs.  Hemans. 

"  Yes !  "    O,  it  is  a  kind  reply, 
When  flowing  from  the  lips  of  dear, 
Young  beauty  —  in  Avhose  ear  we  sigh 
The  one  fond  wish. 

A  NOV. 

We  never  speak  our  deepest  feelings ; 
Our  holiest  hopes  have  no  revealings 
Save  in  the  gleams  that  light  the  face, 
Or  fancies  that  the  pen  may  trace ; 
Or  when  we  use,  like  Love,  the  flowers 
To  mark  our  thoughts,  as  he  the  hours. 

Mks.  Halk. 

Love  has  a  fleeter  messenger  than  speech, 
To  tell  love's  meaning.     His  expresses  post 
Upon  the  orbs  of  vision,  ere  the  tongue 
Can  shape  them  into  words. 

G.  CoLMAN,  Jr. 


@: 


@—  (o) 

\  TOO    YOUNG    TO    LOVE.  201 


j  ROSEBUD,  WHITE. 

Rosa  Alba. 
Language  — TOO   YOUNG  TO   LOVE. 

Her  bosom  was  a  soft  retreat 

For  love,  and  love  alone, 
And  yet  her  lieart  had  never  beat 

To  love's  delicious  tone ; 
It  dwelt  within  its  circle  free 

From  tender  thoughts  like  these, 
Waiting  the  little  deity, 

As  the  blossom  waits  the  breeze, 
Before  it  throws  its  leaves  apart, 
And  trembles  like  a  love-touched  heart. 

Mbs.  Welby. 

0,  why  delay  the  happy  time  ?  ^ 

The  hours  glide  swiftly  by, 
And  oft  we  see  a  sombre  cloud 

Obscure  the  fairest  sky. 
Then  while  the  morn  is  rosy  bright, 

Accept  my  earnest  vow ; 
And  O,  believe  me,  dearest  maid, 

Love's  time,  love's  time,  is  now. 

p.  Benjamix. 

Gather  the  rosebuds  while  ye  may  ; 

Old  time  is  still  a-flying ;  ^         \ 

And  that  same  flower  that  blooms  to-day 

•^  \ 

To-morrow  shall  be  dying. 

Herbick. 

@  © 


©  = 

202  WE    WILL    BE    STRANGERS. 


ROSE,  YELLOW. 

Rosa  Lutea, 

Language— WE  WILL  BE   STEANGERS. 

They  tell  me  'tis  decided  ;  you  depart : 
'Tis  wise,  'tis  well,  but  not  the  less  a  pain  ; 

I  have  no  further  claim  on  your  young  heart ; 
Mine  is  the  victim,  and  would  be  again  ; 

To  love  too  much  has  been  the  only  art 
I  used :  I  write  in  haste,  and  if  a  stain 

Be  on  this  sheet,  'tis  not  what  it  appears ; 

My  eyeballs  burn  and  throb,  but  have  no  tears. 

BrEO 

I  ask  not  what  change 

Has  come  over  thy  heart ; 
I  seek  not  •what  chances 

Have  doomed  us  to  part ; 
I  know  thou  hast  told  me 

To  love  thee  no  more, 
And  I  still  must  obey 

Where  I  once  did  adore. 

HoFFMjI 

And  must  we  part  ?    Well,  let  it  be ! 

'Tis  better  thus ;  O,  yes  !    believe  me  ! 
For  though  I  still  was  true  to  thee, 

Thou,  faithless  maiden,  wouldst  deceive  me. 
Take  back  this  written  pledge  of  love  ! 

No  more  I'll  to  my  bosom  fold  it ; 
The  ring  you  gave,  your  faith  to  prove, 

I  can't  return  —  because  Tve  sold  it. 


^ 


^ 


AFFECTIONATE    REMEMBRANCE.  203 


ROSEMARY. 

Rosmarinus  Officinalis. 

Laxguage  —  AFFECTIONATE  REMEMBRANCE. 

I  SEE  thee  still,  as  in  a  dream, 

Margery  ! 
I  am  changed,  but  thou  dost  seem 

The  same  to  me. 
The  same  sweet  being,  bright  and  fair, 
With  beaming  eyes  and  auburn  hair. 
That  once  did  my  young  heart  insnare, 

Margery ! 

Thou  wast  a  flower  that  ftided  soon, 

Margery ! 
A  star  that  waned  before  night's  noon 

Did  come  to  thee. 
Admiring  eyes  were  strained  to  know 
The  heavenly  light  thou  didst  bestow, 
And  grieved  that  thou  so  soon  must  go, 

Margery ! 

I  still  remain,  and  cares  are  mine, 

Margery ! 
Yet,  as  I  weakly  would  repine, 

I  think  of  thee  ; 
The  halcyon  scenes  we  trod  of  yore. 
Thoughts  that  with  sweet  romance  ran  o'er. 
And  all  blest  things  thou  dost  restore, 

Margery ! 

W.  Dbarbokn-. 


@.  —  @  j 

204  THE    CORAL    RING. 


THE  CORAL  RING. 

"  There  is  no  time  of  life  in  which  young  girls 
are  so  thoroughly  selfish  as  from  fifteen  to  twen- 
ty," said  Edward  Ashton,  deliberately,  as  he  laid 
down  a  book  he  had  been  reading,  and  leaned 
over  the  centre  table. 

"  You  insulting  fellow!"  replied  a  tall,  brilliant- 
looking  creature,  who  was  lounging  on  an  otto- 
man hard  by,  over  one  of  Dickens's  last  works. 

"  Truth,  coz,  for  all  that,"  said  the  gentleman, 
with  the  air  of  one  who  means  to  provoke  a  dis- 
cussion. 

"  Now,  Edward,  this  is  just  one  of  your  whole- 
sale declarations  —  for  nothing  only  to  get  me 
into  a  dispute  with  you,  you  know,"  replied  the 
lady.  "  On  your  conscience,  now,  (if  you  have 
one,)  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  My  conscience  feels  quite  easy,  cousin,  in  sub- 
scribing to  that  sentiment,  as  my  confession  of 
faith,"  replied  the  gentleman,  with  provoking  sang 
froid. 

"  Pshaw !  it's  one  of  your  fusty,  old-bachelor 
notions.  See  what  comes,  now,  of  your  living  to 
your  time  of  life  without  a  w^ife  —  disrespect  for 
the  sex,  and  all  that.  Really,  cousin,  your  symp- 
toms are  getting  alarming." 

"  Nay,  now,  cousin  Florence,"  said  Edward, 
"  you  are  a  girl  of  moderately  good  sense,  with 

@  -  @ 


($)-  @ 

THE    CORAL    RING.  205 

all  your  nonsense.  Now,  don't  you  (I  know  you 
do)  think  just  so  too  ?  " 

"Think  just  so  too!  Do  hear  the  creature  I '"^ 
said  Florence.  "  No,  sir ;  yoiT  can  speak  for 
yourself  in  this  matter ;  but  I  beg  leave  to  en- 
ter my  protest  when  you  speak  for  me  too." 

"  Well,  now,  where  is  there,  coz,  among  all 
our  circle,  a  young  girl  that  has  any  sort  of  pur- 
pose or  object  in  life,  to  speak  of,  except  to  make 
herself  as  interesting  and  agreeable  as  possible  — 
to  be  admired,  and  to  pass  her  time  in  as  amusing 
a  way  as  she  can  ?  Where  will  you  find  one,  be- 
tween fifteen  and  twenty,  that  has  any  serious 
regard  for  the  improvement  and  best  welfare  of 
those  with  whom  she  is  connected  at  all,  or  that 
modifies  her  conduct  in  the  least,  with  reference  to 
it  ?  Now,  cousin,  in  very  serious  earnest,  you 
have  about  as  much  real  character,  as  much  ear- 
nestness and  depth  of  feeling,  and  as  much  good 
sense,  when  one  can  get  at  it,  as  any  young  lady 
of  them  all ;  and  yet,  on  your  conscience,  can  you 
say  that  you  live  with  any  sort  of  reference  to  any 
body's  good  —  or  to  any  thing  but  your  own 
amusement  and  gratification?" 

"What  a  shocking  adjuration!"  replied  the 
lady,  "  prefaced,  too,  by  a  three-story  compliment! 
Well,  being  so  adjured,  I  must  think  to  the  best 
of  my  ability.  And  now,  seriously  and  soberly,  I 
don't  see  as  I  am  selfish.  I  do  all  that  I  have  any 
occasion  to  do,  for  any  body.  You  know  that  we 
@  @ 


(o)  @i 

206  THE    CORAL   RING. 

have  servants  to  do  every  thing  that  is  necessary 
about  the  house,  so  that  there  is  no  occasion  for 
my  making  any  display  of  housewifely  excellence  ; 
and  I  wait  on  mamma,  if  she  has  a  headache,  and 
hand  papa  his  slippers  and  newspaper,  and  find 
uncle  John's  spectacles  for  him  twenty  times  a 
day,   (no  small  matter  that,)   and  then " 

"  But  after  all,  what  is  the  object  and  purpose 
of  your  life  ?  " 

"  Why  —  I  haven't  any.  I  don't  see  how  I  can 
have  any  —  that  is,  as  I  am  made.  Now,  you 
know,  I've  none  of  the  fussing,  baby-tending, 
herb-tea-making  recommendations  of  aunt  Sally, 
and  divers  others  of  thB  class  commonly  called 
useful.  Indeed,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  think  useful 
persons  are  commonly  rather  fussy  and  stupid. 
They  are  just  like  the  boneset,  and  hoarhound,  and 
catnip,  very  necessary  to  be  raised  in  a  garden, 
but  not  in  the  least  ornamental." 

"  And  you  charming  young  ladies,  who  philoso- 
phize in  kid  slippers  and  French  dresses,  are  tulips 
and  roses,  very  charming,  and  delightful,  and  sweet, 
but  fit  for  nothing  on  earth  but  parlor  ornaments." 

"  Well,  parlor  ornaments  are  good,  in  their 
way,"  said  the  young  lady,  coloring,  and  looking 
a  little  vexed. 

"  So  you  give  up  the  point,  then,"  said  the 
gentleman,  "that  you  girls  are  good  for — just  to 
amuse  yourselves,  amuse  others,  look  pretty,  and 
be  agreeable." 

© © 


—  -         — ^(g) 

THE    CORAL    RING.  .  207 

"  Well,  and  if  we  behave  well  to  our  parents, 
and  are  amiable  in  the  family  —  I  don't  know — - 
and  yet,"  said  Florence,  sighing,  "  I  have  often  had 
a  sort  of  vague  idea  of  something  higher  than  we 
might  become ;  yet,  really,  what  more  than  this  i& 
expected  of  us  ?  what  else  can  we  do  ?  " 

"  I  used  to  read,  in  old-fashioned  novels,  about 
ladies  visiting  the  sick  and  the  poor,"  replied  Ed- 
ward. ^'  You  remember  Ccelebs  in  Search  of  a 
Wife  ?  " 

"  Yes,  truly ;  that  is  to  say,  I  remember  the 
story  part  of  it,  and  the  love  scenes ;  but  as  for  all 
those  everlasting  conversations  of  Dr.  Barlow,  Mr. 
Stanley,  and  nobody  knows  who  else,  I  skipped 
those,  of  course.  But  really,  this  visiting  and 
tending  the  poor,  and  all  that,  seems  very  well  in 
a  story,  where  the  lady  goes  into  a  picturesque 
cottage,  half  overgrown  with  honeysuckle,  and 
finds  an  emaciated,  but  still  beautiful,  woman 
propped  up  by  pillows.  But  come  to  the  down- 
right matter  of  fact  of  poking  about  in  all 
these  vile,  dirty  alleys,  and  entering  little  dark 
rooms,  amid  troops  of  grinning  children,  and 
smelling  codfish  and  onions,  and  nobody  knows 
what — dear  me!  my  benevolence  always  evapo- 
rates before  I  get  through.  I'd  rather  pay  any 
body  five  dollars  a  day  to  do  it  for  me  than  to  do 
it  myself.  The  fact  is,  that  I  have  neither  fancy 
nor  nerve  for  this  kind  of  thing." 

''  Well,  granting,  then,  that  you  can  do  nothing 

@  @ 


©: 


208  THE    CORAL    RING. 


for  your  fellow-creatures,  unless  you  are  to  do  it  in 
the  most  genteel,  comfortable,  and  picturesque 
manner  possible,  is  there  not  a  great  field  for  a 
woman  like  you,  Florence,  in  your  influence  over 
your  associates?  With  your  talents  for  conversa- 
tion, your  tact  and  self-possession,  and  lady-like 
gift  of  saying  any  thing  you  choose,  are  you  not 
responsible,  in  some  wise,  for  the  influence  you 
exert  over  those  by  whom  you  are  surrounded  ?  " 

"  I  never  thought  of  it,"  replied  Florence. 

"  Now,  you  remember  the  remarks  that  Mr. 
Fortesque  made,  the  other  evening,  on  the  reli- 
gious services   at  church  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do  ;  and  thought  then  he  was  too  bad." 

"  And  I  do  not  suppose  there  was  one  of  you 
ladies  in  the  room  that  did  not  think  so  too  ;  but 
yet  the  matter  was  all  passed  over  with  smiles, 
and  with  not  a  single  insinuation  that  he  had  said 
any  thing  unpleasing  or  disagreeable." 

"  Well,  what  could  we  do  ?  One  does  not 
want  to  be  rude,  you  know." 

"  Do !  Could  you  not,  Florence,  —  you  who  have 
always  taken  the  lead  in  society,  and  who  have 
been  noted  for  always  being  able  to  say  and  do  as 
you  please,  —  could  you  not  have  shown  him  that 
those  remarks  were  unpleasing  to  you,  as  decid- 
edly as  you  certainly  would  have  done  if  they  had 
related  to  the  character  of  your  father  or  brother  ? 
To  my  mind,  a  woman  of  true  moral  feeling 
should   feel  herself   as  much   insulted   when    her 

©  © 


@  •  — © 

THE    CORAL    KING.  209 

religion  is  treated  with  contempt,  as  if  the  con- 
tempt were  shown  to  herself.  Do  you  not  knov) 
the  pov/er  which  is  given  to  yon  women  to  awe 
and  restrain  us  in  your  presence,  and  to  guard  the 
sacredness  of  things  which  you  treat  as  holy  ? 
Believe  me,  Florence,  that  Fortesque,  infidel  as  he 
is,  would  reverence  a  woman  with  whom  he  dared 
not  trifle  on  sacred  subjects." 

Florence  rose  from  her  seat  with  a  heightened 
color,  her  dark  eyes  brightening  through  tears. 

"  I  am  sure  what  you  say  is  just,  cousin,  and 
yet  I  have  never  thought  of  it  before.  I  will  —  I 
am  determined  to  begin,  after  this,  to  live  with 
some  better  purpose  than   I  have  done." 

'^  And  let  me  tell  you,  Florence,  in  starting  a 
new  course,  as  in  learning  to  walk,  taking  the  first 
step  is  every  thing.  Now,  I  have  a  first  &tep  to 
propose  to  you." 

"  Well,  cousin." 

"  Well,  you  know,  I  suppose,  that  among  your 
train  of  adorers  you  number  Colonel  Elliot." 

Florence  smiled. 

"  And  perhaps  you  do  not  know,  what  is  cer- 
tainly true,  that  among  the  most  discerning  and 
cool  part  of  his  friends,  Elliot  is  considered  as  a 
lost   man." 

"  Good  Heavens !  Edward,  what  do  you  mean? " 

"  Simply  this,  that^  with  all  his  brilliant  talents, 
his  amiable  and  generous  feelings,  and  his  success 
in  society,  Elliot  has  not  self-control  enough  to 


@-- 


14 


6)  -  @ 

210  THE    CORAL    RING. 

prevent  his  becoming  confirmed  in  intemperate 
habits." 

"  I  never  dreamed  of  this,"  replied  Florence. 
"  I  knew  that  he  was  spirited  and  free,  fond  of  so- 
ciety, and  excitable,  but  never  suspected  any  thing 
beyond." 

"  Elliot  has  tact  enough  not  to  appear  in  ladies' 
society  when  he  is  not  in  a  fit  state  for  it,"  replied 
Edward ;  "  but  yet  it  is  so." 

"  But  is  he  really  so  bad?  " 

"  He  stands  just  on  the  verge,  Florence — just 
where  a  word  fitly  spoken  might  turn  him.  He  is 
a  noble  creature,  full  of  all  sorts  of  fine  impulses 
and  feelings,  the  only  son  of  a  mother  who  dotes 
on  him,  the  idolized  brother  of  sisters  who  love 
him  as  you  love  your  brothers,  Florence ;  and  he 
stands  where^  a  word,  a  look —  should  they  be  of 
the  right  kind  —  might  save  him." 

"  And  why,  then,  do  you  not  speak  to  him  ?  " 
said  Florence. 

"  Because  I  am  not  the  best  person,  Florence. 
There  is  another  who  can  do  it  better  —  one 
whom  he  admires,  who  stands  in  a  position  which 
would  forbid  his  feeling  angry  — a  person,  cousin, 
whom  I  have  heard  in  gayer  moments  say  that 
she  knew  how  to  say  any  thing  she  pleased,  with- 
out offending  any  body." 

"  Well,  but,  cousin,  what  would  you  have  me 
do  ?  how  would  you  have  me  do  it  ?  "  said  Flor- 
ence, earnestly. 


@  —  @ 

THE    CORAL    RING.  211 

"  You  know  that  Fashion,  which  makes  so 
many  wrong  turns,  and  so  many  absurd  ones,  has 
at  last  made  one  right  one,  and  it  is  now  a  fash- 
ionable thing  to  sign  the  temperance  pledge.  El- 
liot himself  would  be  glad  to  do  it,  but  he  foolish- 
ly committed  himself  against  it  in  the  outset,  and 
now  feels  bound  to  stand  to  his  opinion.  He  has, 
too,  been  rather  rudely  assailed  by  some  of  the 
apostles  of  the  new  state  of  things,  who  did  not 
understand  the  peculiar  points  of  his  character  ;  in 
short,  I  am  afraid  that  he  will  feel  bound  to  go  to 
destruction  for  the  sake  of  supporting  his  own 
opinion.  Now,  if  I  should  undertake  with  him, 
he  might  shoot  me ;  but  I  hardly  think  there  is 
any  thing  of  the  sort  to  be  apprehended  in  your 
case.  Just  try  your  enchantments  ;  you  have  be- 
witched wise  men  into  doing  foolish  things  before 
now  ;  try,  now,  if  you  can't  bewitch  a  foolish  man 
into  doing  a  wise  thing." 

Florence  smiled  archly,  but  instantly  grew  more 
thoughtful. 

'^  Well,  cousin,"  she  said,  "  I  will  try.  Though 
you  are  liberal  in  your  ascriptions  of  power,  yet  I 
can  put  th.e  matter  to  the  test  of  experiment." 

Florence  Elmore  was,  at  the  time  we  speak  of, 
in  her  twentieth  year.  Born  in  one  of  the  wealth- 
iest families  in ,  highly  educated  and  ac- 
complished, idolized  by  her  parents  and  brothers, 
she  had  entered  the  world  as  one  born  to  com- 
mand.    With   much   native    nobleness  and  mag- 


@: 


212  THE    CORAL    RING. 


nanimity  of  character,  with  warm  and  impulsive 
feelings,  and  a  capability  of  every  thing  high  or 
great,  she  had  hitherto  lived  solely  to  her  own 
amusement,  and  looked  on  the  whole  brilliant 
circle  by  which  she  was  surrounded,  with  all  its 
various  actors,  as  something  got  up  for  her  special 
diversion.  The  idea  of  influencing  any  one,  for 
better  or  worse,  by  any  thing  she  ever  said  or  did, 
had  never  occurred  to  her.  The  crowd  of  ad- 
mirers of  the  other  sex,  who,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  were  always  about  her,  she  regarded  as  so 
many  sources  of  diversion  ;  but  the  idea  of  feeling 
any  sympathy  with  them  as  human  beings,  or  of 
making  use  of  her  power  over  them  for  their  im- 
provement, was  one  that  had  never  entered  her  head. 
Edward  Ashton  was  an  old-bachelor  cousin  of 
Florence's,  who,  having  earned  the  title  of  oddity, 
in  general  society,  availed  himself  of  it  to  exercise 
a  turn  for  telling  the  truth  to  the  various  young 
ladies  of  his  acquaintance,  especially  to  his  fair 
cousin  Florence.  We  remark,  by  the  by,  that 
these  privileged  truth  tellers  are  quite  a  necessary 
of  life  to  young  ladies  in  the  full  tide  of  society ; 
and  we  really  think  it  would  be  worth  while  for 
every  dozen  of  them  to  unite  to  keep  a  person  of 
this  kind  on  a  salary,  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole. 
However,  that  is  nothing  to  our  present  purpose. 
We  must  return  to  our  fair  heroine,  whom  we  left, 
at  the  close  of  the  last  conversation,  standing  in 
deep  revery  by  the  window. 


©: 


THE    CORAL    KING.  213 

"  It's  more  than  half  true,"  she  said  to  herself — 
"  more  than  half.  Here  am  I,  twenty  years  old, 
and  never  4iave  thought  of  any  thing,  never  done 
any  thing,  except  to  amuse  and  gratify  myself; 
no  purpose  —  no  object  —  nothing  high  —  nothing 
dignified  —  nothing  worth  living  for!  —  only  a 
parlor  ornament  —  heigh-ho  !  Well,  I  really  do  be- 
lieve I  could  do  something  with  this  Elliot  ;  and 
yet  how  dare  I  try  ?  " 

Now,  my  good  readers,  if  you  are  anticipating 
a  love  story,  we  must  hasten  to  put  in  our  dis- 
claimer; you're  quite  mistaken  in  the  case.  Our 
fair,  brilliant  heroine  was,  at  the  time  of  speaking, 
as  heart-whT©le  as  the  diamond  on  her  bosom, 
which  reflected  the  light  in  too  many  sparkling 
rays  ever  to  absorb  it.  She  had,  to  be  sure,  half 
in  earnest,  half  in  jest,  maintained  a  bantering, 
platonic  sort  of  friendship  with  George  Elliot ; 
she  had  danced,  ridden,  sung,  and  sketched  with 
him  ;  but  so  had  she  with  other  young  men  ;  and 
as  to  coming  to  any  thing  tender  with  such  a 
quick,  brilliant,  restless  creature,  Elliot  would  as 
soon  have  undertaken  to  sentimentalize  over  a 
glass  of  soda  water.  No,  there  was  decidedly 
no  love  in  the  case. 

"  What  a  curious  ring  that  is ! "  said  Elliot  to 
her,  a  day  or  two  after,  as  they  were  reading  to- 
gether. 

"  It's  a  knight's  ring,"  said  she,  playfully,  as 
she  drew  it  oif,  and  pointed  to  a  coral  cross  set  in 

@—  -@ 


@ '  -@ 

214  THE    CORAL    RING. 

the  gold — "a  ring  of  the  red-crossed  knights. 
Come,  now,  I've  a  great  mind  to  bind  you  to  my 
service  with  it," 

"  Do,  lady  fair !  "  said  Elliot,  stretching  out  his 
hand  for  the  ring. 

"  Know  then,"  said  she,  "  if  you  take  the  pledge, 
you  must  obey  whatever  command  I  lay  upon 
you  in  its  name." 

"  I  swear ! "  said  Elliot,  in  the  mock  heroic,  as 
she  placed  the  ring  on  his  finger. 

An  evening  or  two  after,  Elliot  attended  Flor- 
ence  to  a    party  at    Mrs.  B 's.     Every   thing 

was  gay  and  brilliant,  and  there  was  no  lack  either 
of  wit  or  wine.  Elliot  was  standing  in  a  .little 
alcove,  spread  with  refreshments,  with  a  glass  of 
wine  in  his  hand.  "  I  forbid  it !  the  cup  is  poi- 
soned," said  a  voice  in  his  ear.  He  turned  quick- 
ly, and  Florence  was  at  his  side.  Every  one  was 
busy  with  laughing  and  talking  around,  and  no- 
body saw  the  sudden  start  and  flush  that  these 
words  produced,  as  Elliot  looked  earnestly  in  the 
lady's  face.  She  smiled,  and  pointed,  playfully, 
to  the  ring ;  but  after  all,  there  was  in  her  face 
an  expression  of  agitation  and  interest  which  she 
could  not  repress,  and  Elliot  felt,  however  playful 
the  manner,  that  she  was  in  earnest ;  and  as  she 
glided  away  in  the  crowd,  he  stood  with  his  arms 
folded,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  spot  where  she 
disappeared. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  I  am  suspected  —  that  there 

(s) 


— ==@  J 

THE    CORAL    RING.  215 


are  things  said  of  me  as  if  I  were  in  danger  ? " 
were  the  first  thoughts  that  passed  through  his 
mind.  How  strange  that  a  man  may  appear 
doomed,  given  up,  and  lost,  to  the  eye  of  every 
looker-on,  before  he  begins  to  suspect  himself! 
This  was  the  first  time  that  any  defined  apprehen- 
sion of  loss  of  character  had  occurred  to  Elliot, 
and  he  was   startled  as  if  from  a  dream. 

"  What  the  deuse  is  the  matter  with  you,  Elli- 
ot ?  You  look  as  solemn  as  a  hearse ! "  said  a 
young  man   near  by. 

"  Has  Miss  Elmore  cut  you  ?  "  said  another. 

"  Come,  man,  have  a  glass,"  said  a  third. 

"  Let  him  alone  —  he's  bewitched,"  said  a 
fourth ;  "  I  saw  the  spell  laid  on  him.  None  of 
us  can  say  but  our  turn  may  come  next." 

An  hour  later,  that  evening,  Florence  was  talk- 
ing, with  her  usual  spirit,  to  a  group  who  were 
collected  around  her,  when,  suddenly  looking  up, 
she  saw  Elliot,  standing  in  an  abstracted  manner, 
at  one  of  the  windows  that  looked  out  into  the 
balcony. 

"  He  is  offended,  I  dare  say,"  she  thought ; 
"  but  why  should  I  care  ?  For  once  in  my  life  I 
have  tried  to  do  a  right  thing,  a  good  thing ;  I 
have  risked  giving  offence  for  less  than  this,  many 
a  time."  Still  Florence  could  not  but  feel  trem.- 
ulous,  when,  a  few  moments  after,  Elliot  ap- 
proached her,  and  offered  his  arm  for  a  prome- 
nade.    They  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  she 


(o)  ,,,,,,,,,,,^@   j 

216  THE    CORAL    RING. 


talking  volubly,  and  he  answering  yes  and  no,  and 
any  thing  else,  at  cross  purposes,  till  at  length,  as 
if  by  accident,  he  drew  her  into  the  balcony  which 
overhung  the  garden.  The  moon  was  shining 
brightly,  and  every  thing  without,  in  its  placid 
quietness,  contrasted  strangely  with  the  busy, 
hurrying  scene  within. 

"  Miss  Elmore,"  said  Elliot,  abruptly,  *'  may  I 
ask  you,  sincerely  —  had  you  any  design  in  a  re- 
mark you  made  to  me  in  the  early  part  of  the 
evening  ?  " 

Florence  paused,  and  though  habitually  the  most 
practised  and  self-possessed  of  women,  the  color  ac- 
tually receded  from  her  cheek,  as  she  answered,  — 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Elliot,  I  must  confess  that  I  had." 

"  And  is  it  possible,  then,  that  you  have  heard 
any  thing  ?  " 

"  I  have  heard,  Mr.  Elliot,  that  which  makes 
me  tremble  for  you,  and  for  those  whose  life  I 
know  is  bound  up  in  you ;  and,  tell  me,  were  it 
well,  or  friendly  in  me,  to  know  that  such  things 
were  said,  that  such  danger  existed,  and  not  to 
warn  you  of  it  ?  " 

Elliot  stood  for  a  few  moments  in  silence. 

"  Have  I  offended  ?  Have  I  taken  too  great  a 
liberty?"  said  Florence,   gently. 

Hitherto   Elliot  had  only  seen  in   Plorence  the 

self-possessed,    assured,   light-hearted    woman    of 

fashion  ;  but   there  were  a   reality  and  depth  of 

feeling  in  the  few  words  she  had  spoken  to  him, 

©  Co) 


@  (Q) 

THE    CORAL    RING.  217 

in  this  interview,  that  opened  to  him  entirely  a 
new  view  of  her  character. 

"  No,  Miss  Elmore,"  said  he,  earnestly,  after 
some  pause ;  "  I  may  be  pained — offended  I  cannot 
be.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  have  been  thoughtless,  ex- 
cited, dazzled ;  my  spirits,  naturally  buoyant,  have 
carried  me,  often,  too  far ;  and  lately  I  have  often 
painfully  suspected  my  own  powers  of  resistance ; 
I  have  really  felt  that  I  needed  help,  but  have 
been  too  proud  to  confess,  even  to  myself,  that  I 
needed  it.  You,  Miss  Elmore,  have  done  what, 
perhaps,  no  one  else  could  have  done.  I  am  over- 
whelmed with  gratitude,  and  I  shall  bless  you  for  it 
to  the  latest  day  of  my  life.  I  am  ready  to  pledge 
myself  to  any  thing  you  may  ask  on  this  subject." 

"  Then,"  said  Florence,  "  do  not  shrink  from  do- 
ing what  is  safe,  and  necessary,  and  right  for  you 
to  do,  because  you  have  once  said  you  would  not 
do  it.     You  understand  me." 

"  Precisely,"  replied  Elliot,  "  and  you  shall  be 
obeyed." 

It  was  not  more  than  a  week  before  the  news 
was  circulated  that  even  George  Elliot  had  signed 
the  pledge  of  temperance.  There  was  much  won- 
dering at  this  sudden  turn  among  those  who  had 
known  his  litter  repugnance  to  any  measure  of 
the  kind,  and  the  extent  to  which  he  had  yielded 
to  temptation  ;  but  few  knew  how  fine  and  deli- 
cate had  been  the  touch  to  which  his  pride  had 
yieiaed.  -^i^^^  n  3  stowe. 


@ 

218  MARRIAGE. 


SAFFRON. 

Carthamus  Tindorius. 

Language  —  MARRIAGE. 

Art  thou  beloved,  and  dost  thou  love  him  truly, 

By  whom  —  with  whom  —  thy  lot  in  life  is  cast  ? 
Or  hast  thou  rashly,  weakly,  or  unduly, 

In  wrath,  or  scorn,  or  grief,  thus  sealed  the  past  ? 
If,  stung  by  memories,  thou  must  dissemble, 

Of  one  who  left  thee,  fickle  and  unkind. 
Thy  pride  thus  seeks  to  wound  the  inconstant,  tremble  ! 

Back  to  thy  heart  that  shaft  its  way  shall  find. 

Will  he,  thy  mate,  be  true  to  vows  of  duty  ? 

Or  shalt  thou  weep,  with  eyelids  veiled  and  dim, 
The  lost  advantage  of  thy  powerless  beauty. 

Which,  praised  by  others,  kept  no  hold  on  him  ? 
Shall  some  fair  temptress,  hke  a  dazzling  meteor. 

Teach  him  thy  more  familiar  charms  to  slight, 
Thy  deep  love  weighed  against  each  novel  feature, 

A  balance  stated  custom  renders  light  ? 

Who  shall  decide  ?    The  bridal  day !    O,  make  it 

A  day  of  sacrament  and  fervent  prayer. 
Though  every  circumstance  conspires  to  make  it 

Out  of  the  common  perplexity  of  care ! 
Let  not  vain  merriment  and  giddy  laughter 

Be  the  last  sound  in  thy  departing  ear ; 
For  God  alone  can  tell  what  cometh  after. 

What  store  of  sorrow,  or  what  cause  for  fear ! 

Mrs.  Norton. 


(^- 


:© 


DAZZLING,    BUT    DANGEROUS. 


219 


4 


SNAPDRAGON. 
Antirrhinum. 


Language  — DAZZLING,  BUT  DANGEROUS. 

Her  brow  is  white  as  stainless  snow^ 

As  ebon  black  her  heart  of  sin ; 
Her  cheek  with  morning's  blush  doth  glow 

O'er  midnight  gloom  within.  mes.  Osgood. 

Ladies,  though  to  your  conquering  eyes 
Love  owes-  its  brightest  victories, 
And  borrows  those  bright  arms  from  you 
With  which  he  does  the  world  subdue. 
Yet  you  yourselves  are  not  above 
The  empire  nor  the  griefs  of  love. 
Then  rack  not  lovers  with  disdain. 
Lest  love  on  you  revenge  their  pain. 
You  are  not  free  because  you're  fair ; 
The  boy  did  not  his  mother  spare  ; 
Though  beauty  be  a  killing  dart, 
It  is  no  armor  for  the  heart. 

Sir  George  Exherege. 

If  all  the  world  and  love  were  young, 
And  truth  in  every  shepherd's  tongue, 
These  pleasures  might  my  passions  move 
To  live  with  thee  and  be  thy  love. 
So  fading  flowers  in  every  field 
To  winter  floods  their  treasures  yield  ; 
A  honeyed  tongue,  a  heart  of  gall. 
Is  fancy's  spring,  but  sorrow's  fall. 

Sib  Walter  Kaleioii. 


©= 


=@ 


@ 

220  HOPE   IN    SORROW. 


SNOWDROP. 

Galanthus  JYivalis. 

Language  — HOPE  IN  SORROW. 

Let  us  hope  for  brighter  days ; 

We  have  struggled  long  together, 
Hoping  that  the  summer  rays 

Might  succeed  the  wintry  weather  ; 
Hoping  till  the  summer  came, 

That  to  us  seemed  winter  still ; 
Summer,  winter,  all  the  same 

To  our  hearts  so  cold  and  chill. 

Let  us  hope  for  brighter  days  ; 

Surely  they  must  come  at  last, 
As  we  see  the  solar  rays, 

When  the  storm  has  hurried  past : 
So,  as  in  the  storm  we  know 

That  the  sunbeams  will  succeed. 
Let  us  not  our  hope  forego. 

In  the  darkest  hour  of  need. 

The  night  is  mother  of  the  day, 

The  winter  of  the  spring ; 
And  ever  upon  old  decay 

The  greenest  mosses  cling. 

Behind  the  cloud  the  starlight  lurks  ; 

Through  showers  the  sunbeams  fall ; 
-For  God,  who  loveth  all  his  works. 

Has  left  his  hopes  with  all. 


©■ 


THOUGHTS    OP   HEAVEN. 


--@ 


221 


SNOWBALL. 

Viburnum  Opulus. 

Language  —  THOUGHTS   OF  HEAVEN. 

What  dost  thou,  O,  wandering  dove, 

From  thy  home  on  the  rock's  riven  breast  ? 
'Tis  fair,  but  the  falcon  is  wheeling  above : 

0,  fly  to  thy  sheltering  nest ; 

To  thy  nest,  wandering  dove,  to  thy  nest. 

Frail  bark,  on  that  bright  summer  sea. 

That  the  breezes  now  curl  but  in  sport, 
Spread  cheerly  thy  sail,  for  though  pleasant  it  be. 

Ne'er  linger  till  safe  in  the  port; 

To  the  port,  little  bark,  to  the  port. 

Tired  roe,  that  the  hunter  dost  flee, 

With  his  arrows  e'en  now  on  the  wing. 
In  yon  deep  green  recess  there's  a  fountain  for  thee 

Go,  rest  by  that  clear  secret  spring ; 

To  the  spring,  panting  roe,  to  the  spring. 

My  spirit!  still  hovering,  half  blest, 
'Mid  shadows  st)  fleeting  and  dim ; 
Ah,  knowest  thou  thy  rock,  and  thy  haven  of  rest, 

And  thy  pure  spring  of  joy  ? 

Then  to  Him,  fluttering  spirit,  to  Him! 


4) 


1 


©-- 


222  RECONCILIATION. 


STAR  OF  BETHLEHEM. 

Ornithogalum. 

Language  —  RECONCILIATION. 

Homely  words  may  we  deem  them ;  the  season  has  flown 
When  we  heard  them  from  others,  or  made  them  our  own ; 
Yet,  would  that  their  spirit  of  sweetness  and  truth 
Could  come  to  our  ears  as  it  came  in  our  youth ; 
0,  would  that  we  uttered  as  freely  as  then, 
"  Let's  make  it  up,  brother;  smile  kindly  again. 
Let's  make  it  up." 

Let  us  make  it  up,  brother.    O,  when  we  were  young, 
No  pride  stayed  the  words  ere  they  fell  from  the  tongue  ; 
No  storms  of  dissension,  no  passions  that  strove, 
Could  banish  forever  the  peace-making  dove. 
If  'twas  frighted  a  while  from  its  haven  of  rest, 
It  returned  at  the  sound  that  would  please  it  the  best  — 
"  Let's  make  it  up." 

Let  us  make  it  up,  brother.     O,  let  us  forget 
How  it  is  that  so  coldly  of  late  we  have  met ; 
Where  the  fault  may  be  resting  we'll  stay  not  to  tell — 
Its  curse  on  the  spirits  of  both  of  us  fell ; 
So  take  my  hand  firmly,  and  grasp  as  of  yore ; 
Let  heart  whisper  to  heart,  as  they  whispered  before, 
"  Let's  make  it  up." 

Chaelottk  Youno. 


@= 


--© 


MY   COUSIN. 


223 


MY  COUSIN. 


Well,  sir,  —  but  here's  to  us  both,  —  from  that 
time  forth  it  became  the  great  object  of  my  life  to 
effect  that  which  I  had  failed  of  in  my  youth  ; 
and  which  my  lovely  little  cousin  so  provokingly 
persisted  in  refusing.  Why,  sir,  we  were  cousins  ; 
and,  pray,  what  was  there  improper  in  it?  Be- 
sides, hadn't  I  been  absent  five  years?  and  now, 
when  I  returned,  and  was  kissed  by  all, — uncle, 
aunt,  nurse,  down  almost  to  the  washerwoman, — it 
was  absolutely  outrageous  that  she  alone  was  to 
stand  out  and  be  obstinate.  But  she  was  so  love- 
ly that  I  couldn't  get  angry  at  her ;  and,  besides, 
what  use  would  it  have  been  to  fume  and  fret? 
It  wasn't  the  way  to  conquer,  —  I'd  learned  that, 
anyhow,  —  and  it  would  have  been  ungallant  in 
the  highest.  How  should  I  win?  I  had  but  a 
couple  of  months  to  stay,  and  she  was  so  popular 
that  all  the  beaux  of  the  country  were  thronging 
in  her  train.  I'd  a  hard  task  before  me,  and  it 
would  have  disheartened  many  a  one ;  but  I  had 
been  to  the  Black  Hills,  and  shot  buffalo. 

There  was  one  of  her  suitors,  named  Thornton, 
whom  she  seemed  to  like  better  than  the  rest ;  and 
I  must  say,  during  the  first  month  of  my  visit,  she 
coquetted  wdth  him  a  good  deal  at  my  expense.  It 
used  to  give  me  a  touch  of  the  old  flutter  now 
and  then,  but  I  consoled  myself  that,  as  I  was  not 


\  ©-- 


--© 


©: 


224  MY    COUSIN. 


in  love,  there  was  no  sense  in  being  jealous  ;  and 
besides,  Mr.  Thornton's  favorable  receptions  had 
nothing  to  do  with  my  object.  So  I  took  to  hum- 
ming the  Blackfoot  tune,  and  teasing  my  pretty 
cousin  about  her  favorite  lover.  You've  no  idea, 
sir,  what  a  change  it  made.  She  denied  it  at 
first,  then  grew  absolutely  worried  that  I  wouldn't 
believe  her,  and  finally  showed  me  a  pretty 
marked  preference  on  every  occasion.  But  I  was 
only  a  cousin,  and  nobody  took  any  notice  of  it. 
Ah,  sir !  those  cousins  play  the  dense  with  the 
girls'  hearts !  They're  always  untangling  your 
daughters  silk,  or  bringing  her  the  last  new  novel, 
or  plucking  her  a  fresh  moss  rose,  or  lifting  her 
over  the  pebbly  little  brook ;  and  then,  too,  you  let 
them  take  such  long  walks  in  the  summer  twilight, 
or  ride  for  hours  alone  on  a  September  afternoon, 
or  sleigh  away  for  miles  on  the  clear,  moonlight 
nights  of  December,  with  nothing  but  themselves 
for  company  —  and  all  this  time  when  they  are 
both  budding  into  life,  and  fall  into  love  as  natural- 
ly as  I  smoke  my  meerschaum.  Egad,  sir,  I've 
got  two  daughters  myself;  and,  though  I  was 
quite  a  young  man,  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  your 
love  matters ;  and  let  me  tell  you  that  no  cousin 
comes  palavering  about  my  house,  with  his  flute 
and  his  familiarity  ;  for  if  he  does,  I'll  either  make 
my  mind  at  once  to  have  him  as  a  son-in-law,  or 
else  kick  the  young  rascal  neck  and  heels  down 
the  staircase.     Cousins,  indeed! 

@ 


@  @ 

MY    COUSIN.  225 


It  was  just  such  walks  I  took  with  Ellen.  They 
were  all  set  down  to  the  score  of  cousinship ;  but 
they  were  so  delicious,  that  I  regretted  the  time 
had  come  for  me  to  depart,  and  wished  that  one's 
cousin  could  be  with  one  forever.  But  it  was  no 
use.  I  wasn't  worth  a  copper  dollar,  and  unless  I 
could  get  some  heiress  to  marry  me  for  pity,  I  saw 
no  way  of  living  without  roughing  it  through  life. 
I  was  too  proud  to  trespass  on  the  bounty  of  my 
uncle,  and  had  actually  carried  it  so  far  as  to  take 
my  quarters  at  the  village  inn.  It  may  be  the 
good  old  man  could  see  farther  than  I :  he  only 
smiled  and  shook  his  head,  and  left  the  expostula- 
tion to  his  wife.  So  it  happened  my  visit  was 
nearly  up.  Happy,  too  happy,  had  been  those 
months,  and  my  pretty  little  cousin  was  the  cause 
of  it  all.  She,  sweet  angel,  like  all  the  rest, 
charged  it  to  our  cousinship ;  but  I,  at  last,  be- 
gan to  open  my  eyes,  and  half  suspected  the 
truth  ;  for  I  had  noticed  that  my  cousin,  uncon- 
sciously to  herself,  seemed  very  fond  of  my  pres- 
ence. I  learned  it  all  by  close  observation,  sir  — 
a  faculty  I  picked  up  among  the  Sioux.  I  once 
admired  a  cape  on  a  girl's  shoulder,  —  for  I  do 
hate  your  low  dresses,  —  and  lo  !  the  next  day  that 
I  saw  my  pretty  cousin,  the  dear  creature  had  on 
a  modest  cape.  I  praised  the  tie  of  a  ribbon, 
carelessly,  the  next  afternoon,  —  declare  it's  every 
word  true,  sir;  —  she  met  me  in  the  evening  with 
that  very  fashioned  tie.     And  yet  I  don't  think  she 

15 


226  MY    COUSIN. 

was  conscious  of  it.  These  may  seem  trifles,  my 
dear  sir,  but  the  proudest  of  us  all  have  seen  the 
day  when  such  little  proofs  of  affection  from  the 
one  we  love  have  sent  a  thrill  through  every  nerve 
in  our  frame,  and  in  our  ecstasy  almost  lifted  us 
from  the  earth.  Ah,  sir,  it  don't  do  to  laugh  at 
these  trifles;  many  a  noble,  many  a  monarch, 
would  have  given  his  broad  lands,  his  greatest  vic- 
tory,-or  the  finest  jewel  of  his  crown,  to  win  such  a 
trifle  from  the  one  he  loved.  I'm  wandering.  The 
two  months  were  up,  and  yet  in  all  this  time  I 
hadn't  got  a  kiss  from  my  cousin. 

It  was  the  night  but  one  before  I  was  to  go 
away.  I  determined  to  make  a  last  efibrt.  We 
were  sitting  by  the  window,  and  the  old  folks 
were  next  door.  My  sweet  little  cousin  looked 
pensive,  and  doubtless  felt  so  ;  for  though  I  had 
been  to  the  Black  Hills,  and  shot  buffalo,  I  was 
somewhat  sentimental  myself.  It  was  just  the 
night  for  melting  thoughts  ;  and  the  moon  shone 
tenderly  upon  the  river  in  the  distance,  pour- 
ing her  silvery  light  like  fairy  verdure  on  the 
distant  hills.  ^  My  pretty  cousin  sat  by  my  side, 
and  we  were  talking  of  my  approaching  de- 
parture. 

"  I  shall  be  very  busy  to-morrow,  and  I  don't 
know  whether  I  shall  be  able  to  come  here  in  the 
evening,"  said  I. 

She  slowly  raised  her  dark  eyes  to  me,  till  the 
very  soul  seemed   pouring  out  from  beneath  the 

@  = 


@—  @ 

MY    COUSIN.  227 

long  lashes,  and  after  seeming  to  look  right 
through  me,  answered, — 

"  Why  not  ?  You  know  how  glad  we  are  to 
see  you." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  I,  a  little  piqued  at  the  word 
IV e ;  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  half  suspected  I  was 
in  love  with  my  pretty  cousin,  and  had,  as  yoa 
know,  flattered  myself  that  it  was  reciprocal. 
"  Why  ?  Because  I  shall  be  very  busy,  and, 
besides,  I  heard  Thornton  ask  you,  the  other  night, 

to  go  to  P to-morrow  evening  with   him ; 

and  of  course,  my  pretty  coz,  you  go." 

"  There  goes  that  Thornton  again,"  said  she :  "  I 
declare  you  are  too  provoking :  you  know  what  I 
think  of  him." 

"  Ah,  but,"  replied  I,  wickedly,  "  why  make  en- 
gagements on  the  night  an  old  school-fellow  is 
going  away  ?  " 

Her  gayety  was  stopped  at  once.  She  hesitated 
an  instant,  and  then  answered,  — 

"  I  told  him  I'd  give  him  an  answer  to-day,  and 
1  thought  we  were  all  going  together;  but  I'll  send 
him  a  note  declining  at  once.  You  know  you 
don't  think  what  you  say,  cousin." 

I  laughed  it  off",  and  directly  rose  to  depart. 

"  How  very  soon  you  are  going !  "  said  she,  in 
her  pretty,  chiding  voice ;  and  I  thought  there 
was  something  unusually  melancholy  in  its  flute- 
like tones. 

"  And  you're  going  to  kiss  me,"  said  I,  gayly, 

<s) 


@  (o) 

228  MY    COUSIN. 

after  a  little  merry  conversation.  ''  Cousins  do  it 
at  parting  among  the  Blackfeet." 

"  Indeed  I  ain't,'^  said  she,  saucily. 

"  Indeed  you  are,"  said  I,  boldly. 

"  Indeed,  in  very  deed,  Mr.  Impertinence,  you 
mistake  for  once,  even  though  you  have  shot  buf- 
falo at  the  Black  Hills  ;  "  and  she  tapped  her  tiny 
foot  on  the  floor,  and  pouted  her  rich,  red  lips  sau- 
cily out,  looking,  for  all  the  world,  as  if  about  to 
give  me  a  flash  or  two  of  her  brilliant  repartee. 
But  I  was  in  for  it;  and  I  was  determined  to 
see  whether  love  and  the  Black  Hills  could  not 
conquer  reserve  and  wit.  I  thought  I  would  try 
the  latter  first. 

"  Isn't  it  your  duty  ?  "  said  I. 

She  said  nothing,  but  looked  as  if  doubtful 
whether  I  was  quizzing  or  not. 

"  I  can  prove  it  by  the  Talmud,"  said  I. 

A  funny  smile  began  to  flicker  round  the  cor- 
ners of  her  mouth. 

"  I  can  establish  it,  text  by  text !  " 

'*  Indeed  ! "  said  she,  archly,  smiling  malicious- 
ly at  my  anticipated  perplexity.  But  I  was  ahead 
of  her. 

"  Do  unto  others  as  you  would  wish  to  be  done 
unto.     Ain't  it  proved,  my  pretty  coz  ?  " 

"  Well,  really,  you  deserve  something  for  your 
impudence :  you're  quite  a  logician.  Did  you 
learn  that,  too,  at  the  Black  Hills  ?  "  and  her  eyes 
danced  as  she  answered  me. 

@  - 


MY    COUSIN.  229 

I  saw  I  was  no  match  for  her  in  wit,  so  I  be- 
took myself  to  other   ground. 

"  Well,  good  by,  coz." 

"So  early!" 

"  Early  ?  "  and  I  began  to  pull  on  my  gloves. 

"  You'll  be  here  to-morrow  night,  won't  you  ?  " 
said  she,  persuasively. 

"  Do  you  really  wish  it?  " 

"  How  can  you  doubt  it  ?  "  said  she,  warmly. 

"But  how!  I  shall  interrupt  a  tete-a-tete  with 
Mr.  Thornton,"  said  I,  teasingly. 

"  Pshaw  I  Mr.  Thornton  again,"  said  she,  pet- 
tishly. ' 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  at  its  end 
cajyie  a  low,  half-suppressed  sigh.  I  began  to 
think  I  was  on  the  right  track. 

"  You  won't  grant  my  favor  ?  If,  now,  it  was 
to  mend  Mr.  Thornton's  glove " 

"  It's  too  provoking,"  she  burst  out  in  her  old 
mood  ;  but  directly  added,  in  a  pensive  tone,  "  How 
can  you  think  I  care  so  for  him  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  ?  You  do  fifty  things  for  him  you 
wouldn't  do  for  me." 

"  Cousin !  " 

"  I  ask  you  for  the  smallest  favor  ;  I  take  one 
for  a  sample,  and  you  refuse :  you  are  a  very  un- 
fair cousin  ;  "   and  I  took  her  hand. 

"Why?"  said  she,  lifting  her  dark  eye  till  its 
gaze  met  mine.  It  thrilled  me  in  every  nerve. 
"Why?"  and  her  voice  shook  a  little. 

@ 


@  —  @ 

230  MY    COUSIN. 

"  Because  you  never  do  any  thing  I  ask  you  to." 

"  Indeed  I  do !  "  said  she,  earnestly. 

"  I  wish  I  could  think  so,"  said  I,  pensively. 

We  were  standing  by  the  window,  and  I 
thought  her  hand  trembled  as  I  spoke;  but  she 
only  turned  her  head  away  with  a  sigh,  and  with- 
out speaking  gazed  out  upon  the  lawn.  At  an- 
other time,  perhaps,  she  would  have  listened  to 
my  language  differently ;  but  as  I  was  going 
away,  perhaps  forever,  it  made  her  so  pensive. 
Yet  she  did  not  know  her  own  feelings.  Some- 
thing told  her  to  grant  my  boon  —  it  was  but  a 
trifle  —  it  seemed  so  foolish  to  hesitate  ;  but  then 
something  whispered  to  her  that  she  ought  not  to 
do  it.  But  then  it  would  be  so  reserved  and  un- 
cousinly  to  refuse ;  -and  might  I  not  be  justly 
offended  at  her  prudence  ?  I  could  hear  her 
breathe,  and  see  her  snowy  bosom  heave,  as  she 
held  her  taper  finger  in  a  puzzle  to  her  mouth. 
The  conflict  was  going  on  between  love  and  re- 
serve ;  and  yet  —  poor  little  girl !  —  she  knew  it 
not. 

"  And  you  really  won't  come  to-morrow  night, 
without  —  without  —  "she  paused,  and  blushed; 
while  the  low,  soft,  half-reproachful  tone  in  which 
she  spoke  —  softer  than  angels'  softest  whisper 
—  smote  me  to  the  heart,  and  almost  made  me  re- 
pent my  determination.  But  then  it  was  so  pret- 
ty to  see  her  look  perplexed ! 

"  Ellen,"  said  I,  as  if  hurt,  "  I   am   serious  — 


(^.=.^-  -      — -  .  <§ 

MY    COUSIN.  231 

you  don't  think  I'd  trifle  with  you  —  but  I  never  be- 
fore tried  to  test  how  true  were  the  professions  of 
those  I  loved  —  if  one  is  thus  bitterly  deceived,  I 
care  not  to  try  again ; "  and  half  letting  go  her 
hand,  I  turned   partially  away. 

For  a  second  she  did  not  answer,  but  she  looked 
on  the  ground.  Directly  a  cloud  came  over  the 
moon,  and  just  as  the  whole  room  was  buried 
in  a  shadow,  I  heard  a  sigh  that  seemed  to  come 
from  the  bottom  of  my  little  cousin's  heart ;  I  felt 
a  breath  like  a  zephyr  steal  across  my  face,  and  — 
what's  the  use  of  denying  it  ?  —  I  had  conquered. 
But  a  hot  drop  was  on  my  face  ;  and  as  I  pressed 
her  more  warmly  than  became  a  cousin,  a  sudden 
revulsion  of  feelings  came  across  her,  the  true 
secret  of  her  delicacy  flashed  like  a  sunlight  upon 
her  mind,  and  feeling  how  utterly  she  had  be- 
trayed herself,  her  head  fell  upon  my  shoulder,  and 
I  heard  her  sob.  My  heart  stung  me,  —  vain,  un- 
generous sinner  that  I  was,  —  and  I  would  have 
given  worlds  to  have  saved  her  that  one  moment 
of  agony.  But  in  another  instant  came  the  con- 
sciousness that  I  loved  her.  We  spoke  no  woid, 
we  whispered  no  vow;  but  as  I  felt  how  pure  a 
heart  I  had  won,  a  gush  of  holy  feeling  swept 
across  my  soul,  and  putting  my  arm  gently  around 
her,  I  drew  her  to  me  as  softly  as  a  mother  em- 
braces her  first-born  babe.  That  moment  I  shall 
never  forget.  She  ceased  to  sob,  but  she  did  not 
as  yet  look  up.     It  might  have  been  five  minutes, 

@  =@ 


232  MY    COUSIN. 

or  it  might  have  been  half  an  hour.  I  could 
keep  no  measure  of  time.     At  last  1  said,  softly,  — 

"  Ellen  I " 

"  Will  you  come  to-morrow  night  ?  "  whispered 
she,  lifting  her  dark  eyes  timidly  from  my  shoulder. 

"How  can  I  refuse,  dearest?"  said  I,  kissing 
the   tears  from  her  long  lashes. 

"  Well,  what  followed,  Jeremy  ?  " 

Whiff— whiff. 

"  What  followed  ?     For  Heaven's  sake,  tell  us." 

"What?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Why,  a  Mrs.  Jeremy  Short,  to  be  sure." 


I  SEE  her  now  within  my  view  — 

A  spirit,  yet  a  woman  too  !  — 

Her  household  motions  light  and  free, 

And  steps  of  virgin  liberty  ; 

A  countenance  in  which  do  meet 

Sweet  records,  promises  as  sweet; 

A  creature  not  too  bright  or  good 

For  human  nature's  daily  food  ; 

For  transient  sorrows,  simple  wiles, 

Praise,  blame,  love,  kisses,  tears,  and  smiles. 

WOBDSWOETH. 


@        .  =@ 


@  (Q) 

HOLLOWNESS,    OR   TREACHERY.  233 


SWEET  William; 

Dianthus  Barhatus, 

Language  — HOLLO WNESS,   OR  TREACHERY. 

Never  wedding,  ever  wooing, 
Still  a  lovelorn  heart  pursuing, 
Read  jou  not  the  wrong  you're  doing 

In  my  cheek's  pale  hue  ? 
All  my  life  with  sorrow  strewing, 

Wed,  or  cease  to  woo. 

Campbell. 

[ 

;  At  last  I  know  thee  ;  and  my  soul, 

From  all  thy  arts  set  free, 
Abjures  the  cold,  consummate  art 

Shrined  as  a  soul  in  thee, 
Priestess  of  falsehood,  deeply  learned 
In  all  heart  treachery ! 

Saba  I.  Clarke. 

Ah,  many  hearts  have  changed  since  we  two  parted. 

And  many  grown  apart  as  time  hath  sped. 
Till  we  have  almost  deemed  that  the  true-hearted 

Abided  only  with  the  faithful  dead. 
And  some  we  trusted  with  a  fond  believing 

Have  turned  and  stung  us  to  the  bosom's  core  ; 
And  life  hath  seemed  but  as  a  vain  deceiving 

From  which  we  turn  aside  heartsick  and  sore. 

Mrs.  C.  M.  Chandler. 


m 


@  © 


234  MEMORY. 


SYRINGA. 

PhUadelphus  Odorus. 

Language  —  MEMORY. 

I  THINK  of  thee  wlien  young  and  beauteous  morning 

Has  thrown  her  mantle  o'er  the  realms  of  night, 
The  sky,  and  earth,  and  nature,  all  adorning 
With  robes  of  light. 

And  when  around  the  evening  shades  are  creeping, 

And  not  a  breath  disturbs  the  tranquil  sea, 
"When  starlit  skies  their  dewy  tears  are  weeping, 
I  think  of  thee. 

Thy  gentle  voice  !  I  often,  often  hear  it. 

When  from  the  din  of  day  I  fain  would  flee. 
And  in  the  hushed  and  voiceless  night  my  spirit 
Returns  to  thee. 

I  know  that  here  I  never  more  shall  meet  thee. 

For  thou  hast  passed  to  brighter  worlds  above ; 
And  there  dost  wait,  an  angel  fair,  to  greet  me, 
In  realms  of  love. 

But  O,  thy  token,  by  fond  memory  given. 

Of  love  unchanging,  softens  all  my  woe ; 
And  the  sweet  hope  of  joining  thee  in  heaven 
Is  bliss  below ! 


COURAGE.  235 


TANSY. 

Tanacetum. 

Language  —  COURAGE. 

Think'st  thou  there  dwells  no  courage  but  in  breasts 
That  set  their  niiail  against  the  ringing  spears, 
When  helmets  are  struck  down  ?    Thou  little  knowest 
Of  nature's  marvels. 

Mrs.  IIemans. 

He  is  a  coward  who  would  borrow 
A  charm  against  the  present  sorrow 
From  the  vague  future's  promise  of  delight : 
As  life's  alarums  nearer  roll, 
Th'  ancestral  buckler  calls, 
Self-clanging  from  the  walls 

In  the  high  temple  of  the  soul ;  ^ 

Where  are  most  sorrows,  there  the  poet's  sphere  is  —  ^ 

To  feed  the  soul  with  patience, 
To  heal  its  desolations 
With  words  of  unshorn  truth,  wath  love  that  never  wearies. 

J.  R.  Lowell. 

I  slept,  and  dreamed  that  life  was  beauty ; 
I  \voke,  and  found  that  life  was  duty : 
Was  my  dream,  then,  a  shadowy  lie  ? 
Toil  on,  said  heart,  courageously. 
And  thou  shalt  find  thy  life  to  be 
A  noonday  light  and  truth  to  thee. 


©  — — @ 


236  NEVER   FORGET. 


THISTLE. 

Carduus  Cameolatus. 

Language  — NEVER  FORGET. 

Forget  me  not !    What  varied  feeling 
These  little  magic  words  impart ! 

Absence  and  love  at  once  revealing, 

They  sadden  while  they  soothe  the  heart. 

Forget  me  not !  Whatever  woes 
In  life's  precarious  paths  beset  me, 

They'll  soften,  if  affection  knows 
That  those  I  love  will  not  forget  me. 

Forget  thee  !  forget  thee !    How  can  I  forget. 
When  not  a  sigh  leaves  me  which  breathes  of  regret, 
When  not  a  wish  passes  but  finds  in  my  breast 
A  hope  for  thy  welfare,  a  prayer  for  thy  rest  ? 
Forget  thee !  forget  thee  !    I  cannot  forget. 
When  not  a  sigh  leaves  me  which  breathes  of  regret. 

Forget  thee  !  forget  thee !    How  can  I  forget, 
While  deeply,  most  deeply,  thine  image  is  set  ? 
And  nought  from  this  bosom  that  image  will  tear ; 
Forever,  yes,  ever,  that  image  I'll  wear. 
Forget  thee  !  forget  thee  !    I  cannot  forget, 
While  deep  in  my  bosom  thine  image  is  set. 


<§)-- 


@  @ 

DECLARATION    OF   LOVE.  237 


TULIP,  RED. 

Tulipa  Gesneriana. 

Language  —  DECLARATION   OF    LOVE. 

Look  how  the  blue-eyed  violets 

Glance  love  to  one  another ! 
Their  little  leaves  are  whispering 

The  vows  they  may  not  smother. 
The  birds  are  pouring  passion  forth 

In  every  blossoming  tree. 
If  flowers  and  birds  talk  love,  lady, 
Why  not  we  ? 

And  over  all  the  happy  earth 

Love  floweth,  like  a  river  — 
True  love,  whose  glory  fills  the  sky 

Forever  and  forever.  * 

The  pale  hearts  of  the  silver  stars 

Throb,  too,  as  mine  to  thee ; 
All  things  delight  in  love,  lady ; 
Why  not  we  ? 

AiroK. 

1  love  thee,  and  I  feel 
That  on  the  fountain  of  my  heart  a  seal 
Is  set  to  keep  its  waters  pure  and  bright 
For  thee.  s„^,^„. 

And  many  hours  we  talked  in  joy, 

Yet  too  much  blessed  for  laughter  ; 
I  was  a  happy  man  that  day, 

And  happy  ever  after. 

Mrs.  Howitt. 
©■  -@ 


238  BEAUTIFUL    EYES. 


TULIP. 

Tulipa. 

Language  — BEAUTIFUL  EYES. 

Those  eyes,  those  eyes,  how  full  of  heaven  they  are, 
When  the  calm  twilight  leaves  the  heaven  most  holy ! 

Tell  me,  sweet  eyes,  from  what  divinest  star 
Did  ye  drink  in  your  liquid  melancholy  ? 
Tell  me,  beloved  eyes  ! 

BULWEK. 

I  look  upon  the  fair  blue  skies, 

And  nought  but  empty  air  I  see  ; 
But  when  I  turn  me  to  thine  eyes, 

It  seemeth  unto  me 
Ten  thousand  angels  spread  their  wings 
AYithin  those  little  azure  rings. 

O.  W.  nOLHES. 

Those  eyes. 
Soft  and  capacious  as  a  cloudless  sky, 
Whose  azure  depths  their  color  emulates. 
Must  needs  be  conversant  with  upward  looks, 
Prayer's  voiceless  service. 

Wordsworth. 

The  bright  black  eye,  the  melting  blue,  — 
I  cannot  choose  between  the  two. 
But  that  is  dearest,  all  the  while, 
That  wears  for  us  the  sweetest  smile. 

O.  W.  Holmes. 


@. 


@ 

THE    CHARITIES    THAT    SWEETEN    LIFE.  239 


THE  CHARITIES  THAT  SWEETEN  LIFE. 

Pleasant  words !  Pleasant  words !  Do  you 
know,  kind  reader,  how  potent  a  spell  lies  in  a 
pleasant  word  ?  Have  you  not  often  thought  of 
its  power  to  soothe  —  to  charm  —  to  delight,  when 
all  things  else  fail  ?  As  you  have  passed  on 
through  the  journey  of  life,  have  you  not  seen  it 
smoothing  many  a  ruffled  brow,  and  calming 
many  an  aching  bosom  ?  Have  you  not  noticed 
it  in  the  house,  and  by  the  way  —  at  the  fireside, 
and  in  the  place  of  business  ?  And  have  you  not 
felt  that  pleasant  words  are  among  the  "  charities 
that  sweeten  life  "  ?  Ah,  yes ;  and  their  influence 
has  come  over  your  own  soul.  Not  long  since, 
when  you  went  bending  to  the  earth,  oppressed, 
and  weary  with  life's  manifold  sorrows;  when 
dark  clouds  have  hovered  over  you,  and  blackness 
of  darkness  covered  you  ;  when  you  were  ready 
to  yield  in  despondency  the  pursuit  of  happiness, 
and  give  yourself  up  to  unmitigated  gloom; 
when  no  object  of  life  seemed  desirable,  and  even 
the  friendships  of  earth  were  worthless  in  your 
eyes;  when  you  would  fain  have  passed  the  com- 
panion of  your  childhood,  unnoticed,  as  you  met 
him  in  the  way,  —  O,  you  can  tell  how,  in  such  an 
hour,  the  sound  of  a  cheerful  voice,  one  pleasant 
word,  has  dispelled  the  gloom,  and  given  you  to 
the  world  again  —  a  man  —  a  hopeful,  trusting  man. 


(o)  @J 

240  THE    CHARITIES    THAT    SWEETEN    LIFE. 

You  can  tell  us  how  like  an  angel  whisper  was 
the  kind  inquiry  of  that  companion,  and  how  the 
tone  of  cheerful  sympathy  sent  the  dark  clouds 
rolling  from  your  sky,  and  revealed  the  bright 
light  of  day  —  showed  you  that  earth  is  not  all  a 
wilderness,  nor  man  a  being  utterly  deserted  to 
wretchedness. 

But  they  are  few.  Among  the  multitudes  of 
earth,  how  small  the  number  who  habitually,  and 
from  principle,  speak  pleasantly  I  You  have  met 
them.  Now  and  then  they  have  crossed  your 
path,  and  I  doubt  not  your  whole  soul  has  blessed 
them,  as  it  ought,  for  the  words  which  were  balm 
to  your  wounded  spirit.  And  did  you  not  wish 
all  were  like  them  ?  Did  you  not  feel  that  earth 
would  be  a  paradise  indeed,  if  all  the  tones  of  that 
matchless  instrument,  the  human  voice,  were  in 
harmony  with  the  kind  thoughts  of  a  thorough- 
ly kind  heart? 

But,  friend,  while  you  thus  wished,  did  you 
resolve  to  add  one, to  their  number?  Did  you  de- 
termine to  imitate  their  example  ?  Would  I  could 
persuade  that  it  is  your  duty  so  to  do  —  that 
henceforth  you  should  make  it  a  study.  You 
think  it  a  small  matter,  requiring  little  effort.  But 
I  assure  you  it  might  cost  you  many  a  struggle 
ere  you  should  learn  to  speak  in  pleasantness  to 
all  whom  you  might  chance  to  meet,  even  in  one 
short  day ;  and  if  you  accomplished  it,  perhaps  it 
would  be  a  better  day's  work  than  ever  yet  you 

@  @ 


THE    CHARITIES    THAT    SWEETEN    LIFE.  241 

did ;  and  you  might  lay  your  head  on  the  pillow 
of  rest  at  night  with  feelings  akin  to  those  of 
spirits  round   the  throne. 

O,  learn  this  art  yourselves,  all  ye  who  have 
felt  its  kindly  influence  from  others.  Speak  pleas- 
ant words  to  all  around  you,  and  your  path  shall 
ever  be  lighted  by  the  smiles  of  those  who  wel- 
come your  coming,  and  mourn  your  parting  foot- 
steps. 

Mother,  speak  pleasantly  to  the  little  ones  who 
cluster  around  you  ;  speak  ever  pleasantly ;  and 
be  assured  that  answering  tones  of  joy,  and  dispo- 
sitions formed  to  constant  kindness,  shall  be  your 
reward. 

Sister,  brother,  friend,  would  you  render  life 
all  one  sunny  day  ?  would  you  gather  around  you 
those  who  ^ill  cheer  you  in  the  darkest  hour  ?  let 
the  law  of  kindness  rule  your  tongue,  and  your 
words  be  pleasant  as  the  "  dew  of  Hermon,  and 
as  the  dew  that  descended  on  the  mountains  of 
Zion." 

Christian,  follower  of  Him  who  is  passed  into 
the  heavens,  heir  of  immortal  glory,  would  you 
honor  the  Lord  who  bought  you?  would  you 
show  yourself  worthy  the  crown  that  awaits 
you,  and  the  society  in  which  you  expect  soon  to 
mingle?  strive  to  catch  the  tones  which  gladden 
that  celestial  city  to  which  you  haste.  No  discord 
mars  those  tones.  No  discontent  nor  fretfulness 
mingles  with  the  sounds  which  by  faith  we  hear. 

@  =@ 

16 


@  @ 

242  THE    CHARITIES    THAT    SWEETEN   LIFE. 

Would  you  prove  that,  beyond  a  doubt,  you  be- 
long to  that  company?  that  you  will  not  be  a 
stranger  then,  when  you  have  laid  aside  the  vest- 
ments of  mortality?  then  imitate  them  in  this 
thing:  Go  —  from  this  hour  speak  to  those 
whom  you  meet  as  you  would  had  you  already 
taken  your  place  among  the  happy  ones  on 
high,  and  believe  me,  your  Christian  character 
will  rapidly  improve.  And  you  may  hope  to  win 
many  a  soul  to  love  and  seek  the  religion  which 
can  so  transform  the  spirit,  and  so  rule  the  lips, 
that,  amid  all  the  vexations  of  this  vexing  world, 
no  sound  shall  proceed  from  them  but  such  as  an- 
gels might  delight  in,  and  even  He,  whose  name 
is  Love,  shall  always  approve. 


(5©^ 


@  @ 


@  id) 

FLATTERY,    OR   VANITY.  243 


VENUS'S  LOOKING  GLASS. 

Campanula  Speculum. 

Language —  FLATTERY,  OR  VANITY. 

O,  I  know 
Thou  hast  a  tongue  to  charm  the  wildest  tempers  ; 
Herds  would  forget  to  graze,  and  savage  beasts 
Stand  still,  and  lose  their  fierceness,  but  to  hear  thee, 
As  if  they  had  reflection,  and,  by  reason. 
Forsook  a  less  enjoyment  for  a  greater.  ^iowk. 

Hold,  Pharnaces ! 
No  adulation ;  'tis  the  death  of  virtue  ; 
Who  flatters  is  of  all  mankind  the  lowest, 
Save  he  who  courts  the  flatterer.  h.  more. 

Alas !   the  praise  given  to  the  ear 
Ne'er  was  nor  ere  can  be  sincere, 
And  does  but  waste  the  mind 
On  which  it  preys  :  in  vain 
Would  they  in  whom  the  poison  lurks 
A  worthier  state  attain. 

Miss  Landox. 

I  would  give  worlds,  could  I  believe 
One  half  that  is  professed  me  ; 

Affection,  could  I  think  it  thee, 
When  flattery  has  caressed  me. 

Mi  8  8  Lakdox. 

Minds 
By  nature  great  are  conscious  of  their  greatness. 
And  hold  it  mean  to  borrow  aught  from  flattery,    ro^j. 


d 


i 


@ 

244        •  FAITHFULNESS. 


VIOLET,  BLUE. 

Viola  Odorata. 

Language  —FAITHFULNESS. 

Thy  gentle  eyes  are  not  so  bright 

As  when  I  wooed  thee  first ; 
Yet  still  they  have  the  same  sweet  light 

Which  long  my  heart  hath  nursed ; 
They  have  the  same  enchanting  beam 
Which  charmed  me  in  love's  early  dream ; 
And  still  with  joy  on  me  they  stream, 

My  beautiful,  my  wife !  j 

Faithful  found  ^ 

Among  the  faithless,  faithful  only  he ; 
Among  innumerable  false,  unmoved, 
Unshaken,  unseduced,  unterrified ; 
His  loyalty  he  kept,  his  love,  his  zeal ; 
Nor  number,  nor  example  with  him  wrought 
To  swerve  from  truth,  or  change  his  constant  mind,  , 

Though  single. 


Milton's  Fabadise  Lost. 


I  bless  thee  for  the  noble  heart. 

The  tender  and  the  true, 
Where  mine  hath  found  the  happiest  rest 

That  e'er  fond  woman  knew ; 
I  bless  thee,  faithful  friend  and  guide,  ^ 

For  my  own,  my  treasured  share,  '^ 

In  the  mournful  secrets  of  thy  soul. 

In  thj  sorrow  and  thy  care. 

Mbs.  Hemaxs. 

©  ==@  ] 

i 

I 


MODESTY.  245 


VIOLET,  WHITE. 
Viola  Lactea, 
.  Language  — MODESTY. 

I  KNOW  thou  art  oft 

Passed  carelessly  by, 
And  the  hue  so  soft 

Of  thine  azure  eye 
Gleams  unseen,  unsought,  in  its  leafy  bower, 
While  the  heartless  prefer  some  statelier  flower, 
That  they  eagerly  cull,  and,  when  faded,  fling 
Away  with  rude  hand,  as  a  worthless  thing. 
Not  such  is  thi/  fate :  not  thy  beauty's  gift 
Alone  bids  thee  from  thy  bower  be  reft ; 
Not  thy  half-closing,  dewy,  and  deep-blue  eye, 
But  the  charm  that  doth  not  with  beauty  die. 
'Tis  thyjnild,  soft  fragrance  makes  thee  so  dear, 
Thou  loveliest  gem  of  thie  floral  year, 

TWAMBLr. 

The  violet  droops  its  soft  and  bashful  brow. 
But  from  its  heart  sweet  incense  fills  the  air  ; 

So  rich  within,  so  pure  without,  art  thou. 
With  modest  mien,  and  soul  of  virtue  rare  ! 

Mks.  Osgood. 

True  modesty  is  a  discerning  grace. 

And  only  blushes  in  the  proper  place ; 

But  counterfeit  is  blind,  and  skulks  through  fear, 

Where  'tis  a  shame  to  be  ashamed  t'  appear ; 

Humility  the  parent  of  the  first, 

The  last  by  vanity  produced  and  nursed. 

C«WPEB. 


'1 


246  ELOQUENCE.  | 


WATER  LILY. 

JVymphaa  Odorata. 

Language  —ELOQUENCE. 

Power  above  powers !    O  heavenly  eloquence  ! 

That,  with  the  strong  rein  of  commanding  words, 
Dost  manage,  guide,  and  master  th'  eminence 

Of  men's  affections,  more  than  all  their  swords ! 
Shall  we  not  offer  to  thy  excellence 

The  richest  treasure  that  our  wit  affords  ? 
Thou  that  canst  do  much  more  with  one  pen 

Than  all  the  powers  of  princes  can  effect, 
And  draw,  divert,  dispose,  and  fashion  men, 

Better  than  force  or  rigor  can  direct ! 
Should  we  this  ornament  of  glory  then. 

As  the  immaterial  fruits  of  shades,  neglect  ? 

Davisl. 

There's  a  charm  in  delivery,  a  magical  art, 
That  thrills  like  a  kiss  from  the  lip  to  the  heart ; 
'Tis  the  glance,  the  expression,  the  well-chosen  word, 
By  whose  magic  the  depths  of  the  spirit  are  stirred. 
The  lip's  soft  persuasion,  its  musical  tone  — 
O,  such  were  the  charms  of  that  eloquent  one  ! 

Mrs.  Welby. 

And  wheresoe'er  the  subject's  best,  the  sense 
Is  bettered  by  the  speaker's  eloquence. 

Eiiro. 


@-. 


©  @ 

FIDELITY   IN   MISFORTUNE.  ,     247 


WALL  FLOWER. 

Cheiranthus  Cheiri, 

Language  — FIDELITY  IN  MISFORTUNE. 

And  those  dear  eyes  have  shone  through  tears, 

But  never  looked  unkind ; 
For  shattered  hopes  and  troubled  years 

Still  closer  seem  to  bind 
Thy  pure  and  trusting  heart  to  mine. 
Not  for  thyself  didst  thou  repine, 
But  all  thy  husband's  grief  was  thine, 

My  beautiful,  my  wife ! 

When  all  without  looks  dark  and  cold. 

And  voices  change  their  tone. 
Nor  greet  me  as  they  did  of  old, 

I  feel  I  am  not  lone ; 
For  thou,  my  love,  art  aye  the  same. 
And  looks  and  deeds  thy  faith  proclaim ; 
Though  all  should  scorn,  thou  wouldst  not  blame. 

My  beautiful,  my  wife  ! 

Anow. 

But  the  stars,  the  soft  stars !   When  they  glitter  above  us, 
I  gaze  on  their  beams  with  a  feeling  divine ; 

For,  as  true  friends  in  sorrow  more  tenderly  love  us, 
The  darker  the  heaven,  the  brighter  they  shine. 

MEa.  Wklbt. 


@> 


248       THE  EVENING  BEFORE  MARRIAGE. 


THE  EVENING  BEFORE  MARRIAGE. 

"  We  shall  certainly  be  very  happy  together," 
said  Louise  to  her  aunt,  on  the  evening  before  her 
marriage,  and  her  cheeks  glowed  with  a  deeper 
red,  and  her  eyes  shone  with  delight.  When  a 
bride  says  we^  it  may  easily  be  guessed  whom,  of 
all  persons  in  the  world,  she  means  thereby. 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,  dear  Louise,"  replied  her 
aunt ;  "  see  only  that  you  continue  happy  together." 

"  O,  who  can  doubt  that  we  shall  continue  so? 
I  know  myself.  I  have  faults,  indeed  ;  but  my 
love  for  him  will  correct  them.  And  so  long  as 
we  love  each  other,  we  cannot  be  anhappy.  Our 
love  will  never  grow  old." 

"  Alas!  "  sighed  her  aunt,  "  thou  dost  speak  like 
a  maiden  of  nineteen,  on  the  day  before  her  mar- 
riage, in  the  intoxication  of  wishes  fulfilled,  of 
fair  hopes  and  happy  omens.  Dear  child,  re- 
member this :  even  the  heart  in  time  groivs  old. 
Days  will  come  when  the  magic  of  the  senses 
shall  fade.  And  when  this  enchantment  has  fled, 
then  it  first  becomes  evident  whether  we  are  truly 
worthy  of  love.  When  custom  has  made  familiar 
the  charms  that  are  most  attractive,  when  youthful 
freshness  has  died  away,  and  with  the  brightness 
of  domestic  life  more  and  more  shadows  have 
mingled,  then,  Louise,  and  not  till  then,  can  the 
wife  say  of  the  husband,  '  He  is  worthy  of  love  ;  * 

(g) @ 


@  -  •  @ 

THE  EVENING  BEFORE  MARRIAGE.        249 

then,  first,  the  husband  say  of  the  wife,  '  She 
blooms  in  imperishable  beauty.'  But,  truly,  on 
the  day  before  marriage,  such  assertions  sound 
laughable  to  me." 

"  I  understand  you,  dear  aunt.  You  would  say 
that  our  mutual  virtues  alone  can  in  later  years 
give  us  worth  for  each  other.  But  is  not  he  to 
whom  I  am  to  belong — for  myself  I  can  boast 
nothing  but  the  best  intentions  —  is  he  not  the 
worthiest,  noblest,  of  all  the  young  men  of  the 
city  ?  Blooms  not,  in  his  soul,  .every  virtue  that 
tends  to  make  life  happy?" 

"  My  child,"  replied  her  aunt,  "  I  grant  it.  Vir- 
tues bloom  in  thee  as  well  as  in  him ;  I  can  say 
this  to  thee  without  flattery.  But,  dear  heart, 
they  bloom  only,  and  are  not  yet  ripened  beneath 
the  sun's  heat  and  the  shower.  No  blossoms  deceive 
the  expectations  more  than  these.  We  can  never 
tell  in  what  soil  they  have  taken  root.  Who 
knows  the  concealed  depths  of  the  heart  ?  " 

"  Ah,  dear  aunt,  you  really  frighten  me." 

"  So  much  the  better,  Louise.  Such  fear  is 
right ;  such  fear  is  as  it  should  be  on  the  evening 
before  marriage.  I  love  thee  tenderly,  and  will, 
thejefore,  declare  all  my  thoughts  on  this  subject 
without  disguise.  I  am  not  as  yet  an  old  aunt. 
At  seven  and  twenty  years  one  still  looks  forward 
into  life  with  pleasure ;  the  world  still  presents  a 
bright  side  to  us.  I  have  an  excellent  husband. 
I  am  happy.     Therefore  I  have  the  right  to  speak 

©  =^ 


©: 


250       THE  EVENING  BEFORE  MARRIAGE. 

thus  to  thee,  and  to  call  thy  attention  to  a  secret 
which,  perhaps,  thou  dost  not  yet  know;  one 
which  is  not  often  spoken  of  to  a  young  and  pretty 
maiden ;  one,  indeed,  which  does  not  greatly  oc- 
cupy the  thoughts  of  a  young  man,  and  still  is 
of  the  utmost  importance  in  every  household ;  a 
secret  from  which  alone  spring  lasting  love  and 
unalterable  happiness." 

Louise  seized  the  hand  of  her  aunt  in  both 
of  hers.  "  Dear  aunt,  you  know  I  believe  you  in 
every  thing.  You  mean  that  enduring  happiness 
and  lasting  love  are  not  insured  to  us  by  accident- 
al qualities,  by  fleeting  charms  ;  but  only  by  those 
virtues  of  the  mind  which  we  bring  to  each  other. 
These  are  the  best  dowry  which  we  can  possess ; 
these  never  become  old." 

"  As  it  happens,  Louise,  the  virtues,  also,  like 
the  beauties  of  the  body,  can  grow  old,  and  be- 
come repulsive  and  hateful  with  age." 

"  How,  dearest  aunt  ?  What  is  it  you  say  ? 
Name  to  me  a  virtue  which  can  become  hateful 
with  years." 

"  When  they  have  become  so,  we  no  longer  call 
them  virtues,  as  a  beautiful  maiden  can  no  longer 
be  called  beautiful  when  time  has  changed  her  to 
an  old  and  wrinkled  woman." 

"  But,  aunt,  the  virtues  are  nothing  earthly." 

"  Perhaps." 

"  How  can  gentleness  and  mildness  ever  become 
hateful?" 


^ 


THE  EVENING  BEFORE  MARRIAGE.       251 

"  So  soon  as  they  degenerate  into  insipid  indo- 
lence and  listlessness." 

"  And  manly  courage  ?  " 

"  Becomes  imperious  rudeness." 

"  And  modest  diffidence  ?  " 

"  Turns  to  fawning  humility." 

*'  And  noble  pride  ?  " 

"  To  vulgar  haughtiness." 

"  And  readiness  to  oblige  ?  " 

"  Becomes  a  habit  of  too  ready  friendship  and 
servility." 

"  DeaR  aunt,  you  make  me  almost  angry.  My 
future  husband  can  never  degenerate  thus.  He 
has  one  virtue  which  will  preserve  him  as  he  is 
forever.  A  deep  sense,  an  indestructible  feeling 
for  every  thing  that  is  good,  and  great,  and  noble, 
dwell  in  his  bosom.  And  this  delicate  suscepti- 
bility to  all  that  is  noble  dwells  in  me,  also,  I 
hope,  as  well  as  in  him.  This  is  the  innate 
pledge   and  security  for  our  happiness." 

"  But  if  it  should  grow  old  with  you ;  if  it 
should  change  to  hateful  excitability ;  and  excita- 
bility IS  THE  WORST  ENEMY  OF   MATRIMONY.       YoU 

both  possess  sensibility.  That  I  do  not  deny  ;  but 
beware  lest  this  grace  should  degenerate,  and  be- 
come irritable  and  quarrelsome." 

"  Ah,  dearest,  if  I  might  never  become  old !  I 
could  then  be  sure  that  my  husband  would  never 
cease  to  love  me." 

"  Thou  art  greatly  in  error,  dear  child.     "Wert 

©  ^ 


252       THE  EVENING  BEFORE  MARRIAGE. 

thou  always  as  fresh  and  beautiful  as  to-day,  still 
thy  husband's  eye.  would  by  custom  of  years  be- 
come indifferent  to  these  advantages.  Custom  is 
the  greatest  enchantress  in  the  world,  and  in  the 
house  one  of  the  most  benevolent  of  fairies.  She 
renders  that  which  is  the  most  beautiful,  as  well 
as  the  ugliest,  familiar.  A  wife  is  young,  and  be- 
comes old :  it  is  custom  which  hinders  the  husband 
from  perceiving  the  change.  On  the  contrary,  did 
she  remain  young,  while  he  became  old,  it  might 
bring  consequences  which  would  render  the  man  in 
years  jealous.  It  is  better  as  kind  Providence  has 
ordered  it.  Imagine  that  thou  hadst  grown  to  be 
an  old  woman,  and  thy  husband  were  a  blooming 
youth ;  how  wouldst  thou  then  feel  ?  " 

Louise  rubbed  her  chin,  and  said,  "  I  cannot 
tell." 

Her  aunt  continued.  "  But  I  will  call  thy  at- 
tention to  a  secret  which " 

"  That  is  it,"  interrupted  Louise,  hastily,  "  that 
is  it  which  I  long  so  much  to  hear." 

Her  aunt  said,  "  Listen  to  me  attentively. 
What  I  now  tell  thee  I  have  proved.  It  consists 
of  two  parts.  The  first  part — of  the  means  to  ren- 
der a  marriage  happy  —  of  itself  prevents  every 
possibility  of  dissension,  and  would  even  at  last 
make  the  spider  and  the  fly  the  best  of  friends 
with  each  other.  The  second  part  is  the  best  and 
surest  method  of  preserving  feminine  attractions." 

"  Ah !  "  exclaimed  Louise. 

^-= — — 


©-  —  .        © 

THE  EVENING  BEFORE  MARRIAGE.        253 

"  The  former  half  of  the  means,  then :  In  the 
first  solitary  hour  after  the  ceremony,  take  thy 
bridegroom,  and  demand  a  solemn-  vow  of  him, 
and  give  him  a  solemn  vow  in  return.  Promise 
one  another,  sacredly,  never,  not  even  in  mere  jest, 
to  wrangle  with  each  other  ;  never  to  bandy  words, 
or  indulge  in  the  least  ill  humor.  Never!  I  say, 
never.  Wrangling,  even  in  jest,  and  putting  on 
an  air  of  ill  humor  merely  to  tease,  becomes  ear- 
nest by  practice.  Mark  that !  Next  promise  each 
other,  sincerely  and  solemnly,  never  to  have  a  se- 
cret from  each  other,  under  whatever  pretext,  with 
whatever  excuse  it  may  be.  You  must,  continu- 
ally and  every  moment,  see  clearly  into  each 
other's  bosom.  Even  when  one  of  you  has  com- 
mitted a  fault,  wait  not  an  instant,  but  confess  it 
freely ;  let  it  cost  tears,  but  confess  it.  And  as 
you  keep  nothing  secret  from  each  other,  so,  on  the 
contrary,  preserve  the  privacies  of  your  house, 
marriage  state  and  heart,  from  father,  mother, 
sister,  brother,  aunt,  and  all  the  world.  You  two, 
with  God's  help,  build  your  own  quiet  world. 
Every  third  or  fourth  one  whom  you  draw  into  it 
with  you  will  form  a  party,  and  stand  between 
you  two.  That  should  never  be.  Promise  this 
to  each  other.  Renew  the  vow  at  every  tempta- 
tion. You  will  find  your  account  in  it.  Your 
souls  will  grow,  as  it  were,  together,  and  at  last 
will  become  as  one.  Ah,  if  many  a  young  pair 
had    on   their   wedding   day   known   this    pimple 

(2)  ■  @ 


(g)  @l 

254       THE  EVENING  BEFORE  MARRIAGE. 

secret,  and  straightway  practised  it,  how  many 
marriages  were  happier  than,  alas !  they  are ! " 

Louise  kisi^d  her  aunt's  hand  with  ardor.  "  I 
feel  that  it  must  be  so.  Where  this  confidence  is 
absent,  the  married,  even  after  wedlock,  are  two 
strangers,  who  do  not  know  each  other.  It  should  be 
so :  without  this  there  can  be  no  happiness.  And 
now,  aunt,  the  best  preservative  of  female  beauty  ?  " 

Her  aunt  smiled  and  said,  "  We  may  not  con- 
ceal from  ourselves  that  a  handsome  man  pleases 
us  a  hundred  times  more  than  an  ill-looking  one, 
and  the  men  are  pleased  wdth  us  when  we  are 
pretty.  But  what  we  call  beautiful  —  what  in  the 
men  pleases  us,  and  in  us  what  pleases  the  men  —  is 
not  skin,  and  hair,  and  shape,  and  color,  as  in  a 
picture,  or  in  a  statue ;  but  it  is  the  character  ;  it  is 
the  soul  that  is  within  these,  which  enchants  us  by 
looks  and  words,  earnestness,  and  joy,  and  sorrow. 
The  men  admire  us  the  more  they  suppose  those 
virtues  of  the  mind  to  exist  in  us  which  the 
outside  promises ;  and  we  think  a  malicious 
man  disagreeable,  however  graceful  and  hand- 
some he  may  be.  Let  a  young  maiden,  then, 
who  would  preserve  her  beauty,  preserve  but  that 
purity  of  ^oul,  those  sweet  qualities  of  the  mind, 
those  virtues,  in  short,  by  which  she  first  drew  her 
lover  to  her  feet.  And  the  best  preservative  of 
virtue,  to  render  it  unchanging,  and  keep  it  ever 
young,  is  religion  —  that  inward  union  with  the  De- 
ity and  eternity  —  and  faith  ;  is  piety  —  that  walk- 

.  (g)j 


@ 

THE  EVENING  BEFORE  MARRIAGE.        255 

itig  with  God,  so  pure,  so  peaceful,  so  beneficent 
to  mortals." 

"  See,  dear  heart,"  continued  the  aunt,  "  there 
are  virtues  which  arise  out  of  mere  experience. 
These  grow  old  with  time,  and  alter,  because,  by 
change  of  circumstances  and  "inclination,  prudence 
alters  her  means  of  action,  and  because  her 
growth  does  not  always  keep  pace  with  that  of 
our  years  and  passions.  But  religious  virtues  can 
never  change;  these  remain  eternally  the  same, 
because  our  God  is  always  the  same,  and  that 
eternity  the  same,  which  we  and  those  who  love 
us  are  hastening  to  enter.  Preserve,  then,  a  mind 
innocent  and  pure,  looking  for  every  thing  from 
God.  Thus  will  that  beauty  of  soul  remain  for 
which  thy  bridegroom  to-day  adores  thee.  I  am 
no  bigot,  no  fanatic ;  I  am  thy  aunt  of  seven  and 
twenty.  I  love  all  innocent  and  rational  amuse- 
ments. But  for  this  very  reason  I  say  to  thee, 
Be  a  dear,  good  Christian,  and  thou  wilt  as  a 
mother,  yes,  as  a  grandmother,  be  still  beautiful." 

Louise  threw  her  arms  about  her  neck,  and 
wept  in  silence,  and  whispered,  "  I  thank  thee, 
angel."  ^  anox. 


^ 


256  INTELLECT. 


WALNUT,  BLACK. 

Juglans  JVigra. 

Language  —  INTELLECT. 

Clear  on  the  expansion  of  that  snow-white  forehead 
Sits  intellectual  beauty,  meekly  throned  ; 

Yet,  O,  the  expression  tells  that  thou  hast  sorrowed, 
And  in  thy  yearning,  human  heart,  atoned 

For  thy  soul's  lofty  gifts. 

ME8.  E.  I.  Eames. 
REPLY. 

Tell  me  no  more 
Of  my  soul's  lofty  gifts !    Are  they  not  vain 
To  quench  its  haunting  thirst  for  happiness  ? 
Have  I  not  loved,  and  striven,  and  failed  to  bind 
One  true  heart  unto  me,  whereon  my  own 
Might  find  a  resting-place,  a  home  for  all 
Its  burden  of  affliction  ?    I  depart 
Unknown,  though  Fame  goes  with  me ;  I  must  leave 
The  earth  unknown. 

Mrs.  HEM.Ajfs. 

Who  born  so  poor, 
Of  intellect  so  mean,  as  not  to  know 
What  seemed  the  best ;  and,  knowing,  not  to  do  ? 
As  not  to  know  what  God  and  conscience  bade, 
And  what  they  bade  not  able  to  obey  ? 

POLLOK. 


^ 


(d)= 


FORSAKEN    LOVER. 


:(0) 


257 


-    WEEPING  WILLOW. 
Salix. 
Language— FORSAKEN   LOVER. 

'Tis  said !  the  bitter  word  has  passed 
Lips  sealed,  till  now,  with  maiiy  a  kiss  ; 

Farewell,  farewell !  one  Ifirst  —  and  last  — 
For  there's  no  second  pang  like  this. 

Farewell !    I  never  thought  the  word 
Should  thus  be  spoken,  till  that  hour 

When  life's  best  pulse,  still  thine,  adored, 
In  my  last  look  confessed  thy  power. 

Farewell !    0  music,  sad,  but  sweet, 

When  thus  'tis  uttered,  whence  thy  spell? 

Love,  Pride,  Regret,  and  Passion  meet, 
To  make  it  thrill.     Farewell,  farewell ! 

Many  a  swan-like  song  to  thee 
Hath  been  sung,  thou  gentle  tree  !  '' 

Many  a  lute  its  last  lament 
Down  thy  moonlight  stream  hath  sent, 
Willow,  sighing  willow ! 

Therefore  wave  and  murmur  on  ; 
Sigh  for  sweet  affections  gone, 
And  for  tuneful  voices  fled, 
And  for  love  whose  heart  hath  bled, 
Ever,  willow,  willow ! 


@. 


17 


=@ 


258  FRATERNAL    LOVE. 

WOODBINE. 

Lonicera  Periclymenon. 

Language  — FRATERNAL    LOVE. 

Little  fairy, 
Light  and  airy, 
Gladsome,  blithesome  little  creature, 
Ever  cheerful, 
Never  tearful, 
^  Sweetness  beams  in  every  feature  ; 

In  thy  face  not  a  trace 
Can  be  seen  of  aught  like  sorrow ; 

Never  sad,  always  glad. 
As  to-day  art  thou  to-morrow. 

Happy  ever. 

Sorrow  never 
Comes  to  thee,  thou  flower  rarest, 

If  but  lightly. 

Then  less  brightly 
Would  the  smile  be  which  thou  wearest ; 

Thus  to  thee  may  life  be  ; 
May  kind  fortune  e'er  caress  thee  ; 

Peace  be  thine,  sister  mine  — 
God  above,  I  pray,  will  bless  thee  ! 

James  H.  Beottn. 


^- 


@  @ 

CURE   FOR   THE   HEARTACHE.  259 


YAEROW. 

Achillea  Millefolium. 

Language— CURE  FOE.  THE  HEARTACHE. 

I  SAID,  "  You  know  —  you  must  have  known  — 
I  long  have  loved  —  loved  you  alone, 

But  cannot  know  how  dearly." 
I  told  her,  if  my  hopes  were  crossed, 
My  every  aim  in  life  was  lost : 

She  knew  I  spoke  sincerely.  ^ 

She  answered,  as  I  breathless  dwelt 
Upon  her  words,  and  would  have  knelt, 
"  Nay,  move  not  thus  the  least ; 

You  have  —  you  long  have  had "     "  Say  on. 

Sweet  girl !    Thy  heart  ?  "    "  —  your  foot  upoii 
The  flounce  of  my  hattiste.** 

Hoffman. 

All  love  may  be  expelled  by  other  love. 

As  poisons  ar€  by  poisons. 


Detdek. 


But  loved  he  never  after  ?   Came  there  none 
To  roll  the  stone  from  his  sepulchral  heart. 
And  sit  in  it  an  angel  ? 


@  =@ 


260  SORROW. 


YEW, 

Taxus. 

Language  —  SOEROW. 

Alas  for  my  weary  and  care-liaunted  bosom ! 

The  spells  of  the  spring  time  arouse  it  no  more  ; 
The  song  in  the  wildwood,  the  sheen  in  the  blossom, 

The  fresh-swelling  fountain  —  their  magic  is  o'er ! 
When  I  list  to  the  stream,  when  I  look  to  the  flowers, 

•  They  tell  of  the  past,  with  so  mournful  a  tone. 
That  I  call  up  the  throngs  of  my  long-vanished  hours, 

And  sigh  that  their  transports  are  over  and  gone. 

Willis  G.  Clakk. 

Sad  are  the  sorrows  that  oftentimes  come, 

Heavy  and  dull,  and  blighting  and  chill. 
Shutting  the  light  from  our  heart  and  our  home, 

Marring  our  hopes,  and  defying  our  will. 
But  let  us  not  sink  beneath  the  woe  ; 

'Tis  well,  perchance,  we  are  tried  and  bowed ; 
For  be  sure,  though  we  may  not  oft  see  it  below, 

"  There's  a  silver  lining  to  every  cloud." 

So  many  great 
Illustrious  spirits  have  conversed  with  Woe, 
Have  in  her  school  been  taught,  as  are  enough 
To  consecrate  distress,  and  make  ambition 
E'en  wish  the  frown  beyond  the  smile  of  fortune. 


TlIOMSOW. 


Through  suffering  and  sorrow  thou  hast  passed 
To  show  us  what  a  woman  true  may  be. 


J.  K.  Lowell. 


©= 


ABSENCE.  261 


ZINNIA. 

Zinnia  Multiflora. 

Language  —  ABSENCE. 

By  each  dark  wave  around  the  vessel  sweeping, 

Farther  am  I  from  old  dear  friends  removed  ; 
Till  the  lone  vigil  that  I  now  am  keeping, 

I  did  not  know  how  much  you  were  beloved. 
How  many  acts  of  kindness  little  heeded, 

Kind  looks,  kind  words,  rise  half  reproachful  now  ! 
Hurried  and  anxious,  my  vexed  life  has  speeded, 

And  memory  wears  a  soft,  accusing  brow. 
My  friends,  my  absent  friends, 

Do  you  think  of  me  as  I  think  of  you  ? 

(Sunshine  is  ever  cheerful,  when  the  morning 

Wakens  the  world  with  cloud-dispelling  eyes ; 
The  spirits  mount  to  glad  endeavor,  scorning 

What  toil  upon  a  path  so  sunny  lies. 
Sunshine  and  hope  are  comrades,  and  their  weather 

Calls  into  life  the  energies  of  earth  ; 
But  memory  and  moonlight  go  together, 

Reflected  in  the  light  that  either  brings. 
My  friends,  my  absent  friends, 

Do  you  think  of  me  then  ?   I  think  of  you. 

li.  E.  Lakdos. 


^ 


@: 


262  THE    HONEYMOON. 


THE  HONEYMOON. 

A    SKETCH   FROM  LIFE. 

If  we  were  constantly  to  bear  in  mind,  in  our 
passage  through  life,  that  "  'tis  trifles  make  the 
sum  of  human  things,"  how  much  of  the  misery 
into  which  many  of  us  now  heedlessly  plunge 
might  be  entirely  avoided!  Unhappily,  there  are 
but  few  in  the  married  state  who,  in  their  remi- 
niscences, are  enabled  to  look  back  upon  the  un- 
broken chain  of  bliss  so  beautifully  depicted  in 
the  lines  above  quoted  ;  and  the  only  reason,  that 
we  can  imagine,  why  it  is  not  oftener  realized,  is 
—  next  to  the  natural  perversity  of  our  race  — 
the  want  of  proper  attention  to  the  thousand  little 
occurrences  and  unpleasant  passages,  confessedly 
trifling  in  themselves,  but  which,  in  the  aggregate, 
"  make  up  in  number  what  they  want  in  weight." 

It  is  not,  however,  our  intention,  even  were  we 
equal  to  the  task,  to  digress  into  a  dissertation 
upon  the  various  ills  which  afflict  humanity,  or 
the  probable  causes  which  produce  them ;  but 
merely  to  present  the  reader  with  a  brief  sketch, 
which  will  perhaps  serve,  in  some  respect,  to  illus- 
trate, as  well  the  ease  with  which  the  seeds  of 
unhappiness  may  be  incautiously  strewn  in  the 
hearts  of  those  who  love  us,  as  also  what-may  be 
considered  the  infant  or  incipient  state  of  that 
@  -  © 


THE   HONEYMOON.  263 

bright  existence,  warmed  by  that  "  sacred  flame," 
which   can   alone  qualify  us 

"  To  love  in  wintry  age  the  same 
As  first  in  youth  we  loved." 

A  festival  was  given  by  a  young  married  lady 
—  one  of  a  numerous  circle  of  acquaintances  — 
on  the  return  of  her  birthday,  which  was  likewise 
the  first  anniversary  of  her  marriage.  A  large 
party  of  her  young  friends,  the  greater  part  of 
whom  had  knelt  at  the  hymeneal  altar  at  about 
the  same  time  with  herself,  were  present  to  en- 
liven the  occasion.  Mr.  and  Madam  Mayland 
(for  such  shall  be  the  name  of  the  host  and  host- 
ess) presented  a  most  felicitous  union,  and  were 
noted  for  their  tender  regard  for  each  other,  which 
partook  more  of  the  romantic  fondness  which 
characterizes  the  young  and  the  hopeful  lover,  than 
of  what  is  usually  observable  in  the  staid  realities 
of  married  life,  of  even  less  than  a  year's  standing. 
Happy  within  themselves,  they  neglected  no  op- 
portunity to  administer  to  the  joy  and  comfort  of 
their  friends  whom  they  gathered  about  them,  and 
possessing  the  most  agreeable  and  winning  man- 
ners, it  was  rarely  that  their  efforts  to  please  were 
unsuccessful. 

With  such  beings  to  entertain,  it  is  easily 
imagined  that  their  visitors  at  such  times  would 
be  under  very  little  restraint  in  pursuing  the  pleas- 
ures of  the  hour;  and  restraint  in  such  cases,  as 
all  know,  is  a  great  bar  to  enjoyment.  The  con- 
r  -■  .  g) 


@  = 

264  THE    HONEYMOON. 


versations  were  animated,  and  for  a  time  were  par- 
ticipated in  by  all.  Glowing  with  warmth  and 
animation,  after  a  number  of  other  topics  had 
been  exhausted,  the  ever-prolific  theme  of  matri- 
mony was  brought  upon  the  tapis.  This,  in  some 
respect,  was  perhaps  peculiarly  appropriate  to  the 
exigency  of  the  occasion ;  but,  unfortunately,  it 
was  suffered  to  take  a  turn,  the  only  result  of 
which,  if  left  unchecked,  would  be  likely,  in  time, 
to  grow  into  an  unconquerable  evil. 

This  untimely  interruption  of  the  general  harmo- 
ny which  marked  their  intercouse  for  a  few  moments 
previous  was  caused  by  some  of  the  young  hus- 
bands present,  who  were  disposed  to  treat  the  sub- 
ject in  the  most  disagreeable  light,  by  inveighing 
against  matrimony,  and  by  ridiculing  that  condi- 
tion and  its  vaunted  pleasures,  w^ien  compared 
with  their  former  "  single  blessedness."  Some  of 
the  coarser  minded  among  them  went  so  far  — 
and  this  in  the  presence  of  their  wives  —  as  to 
discourse  eloquently  upon  the  bright  fields  for  va- 
rious achievements  which  would  be  open  to  them, 
and  upon  which  they  might  enter,  if  they  were  un- 
married. 

"  I  would  travel,"  said  one. 

"  I  too,"  said  another.  "  I  would  explore  the 
old  world,  and  feast  upon  its  curiosities  and  its 
wonders,  ere  I   became   a   settled   man." 

"  I  would  enter  the  lists  of  fame  at  home,"  said 
a  third.  "  I  would  not  yield  to  the  blind  impulses 
(o) © 


THE    HONEYMOON.  265 

of  Cupid  until  I  had  reached  the  highest  seat  in 
the  council  of  state." 

"  l^y  choice,"  said  a  fourth,  "  were  I  permitted 
to  recommence  my  career,  should  be  the  navy,  in- 
stead of  a  wife." 

"  And  mine  the  army." 

Thus  they  proceeded  through  their  lengthened 
category ;  but,  alas  I  none  said  they  would  en- 
deavor to  make  themselves  and  their  wives  con- 
tented and  happy  in  their  then  present  condition. 
All  that  they  did  say,  though  without  apparently 
any  malicious  or  evil  intent^  broadly  implied  that 
their  wives  were  burdens  to  which  they  were 
chained,  and  which  kept  them  from  rising. 

But  there  are  some  things  too  exalted  to  be  as- 
sailed with  the  trifling  jest ;  and  there  are  hearts 
whose  chords  are  too  exquisitely  sensitive  to  re- 
sist the  withering  influence  of  the  impious  sneer, 
when  coming  from  those  they  love,  be  the  motive 
what  it  will.  It  was  evident  that  the  words  which 
fell  from  the  lips  of  some  of  the  party  descended 
like  drops  of  molten  lava  upon  the  hearts  of  their 
young  and  trusting  wives,  rendering  them  incapa- 
ble of  continuing  their  participation  in  the  even- 
ing's enjoyments.  This,  though  readily  noticed 
by  others,  and  particularly  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  May- 
land,  was  entirely  overlooked  or  unheeded  by  those 
who  were  the  cause  of  it. 

Painful  indeed  was  the  result  to  all  but  such  as 
were  its  active  promoters.  Mr.  Mayland,  who  had 
(5>  © 


@ 

266  THE    HONEYMOON. 

withdrawn  his  voice,  and  was  sitting  a  silent  spec- 
tator of  what  was  going  forward  during  this  part 
of  the  conversation,  was  justly  indignant  at  the 
excesses  of  his  guests,  and  longed  for  an  opportu- 
nity not  only  to  change  the  tenor  of  their  unbe- 
coming observations,  but  to  administer,  at  the  same 
time,  without  involving  any  breach  of  hospitality, 
some  suitable  and  effectual  rebuke.  They,  however, 
continued  their  bitter  remarks :  finally,  noticing 
Mr.  Mayland's  silence,  one  of  them  approached, 
and  tapping  him  upon  the  shoulder,  said, — 

"  Well,  Mayland,  here  you  sit  as  quiet  as  a 
mouse.  What  do  you  think  of  the  matter  —  the 
advantages  and  disadvantages?  What  would 
you  do    if  you  were   not  married  ? " 

His  (Mayland's)  sweetheart  wife  was  sitting  a 
little  distance  from  him  when  this  question  was 
propounded.  .  She  had  been  highly  delighted  that 
her  dear  iiusband  had  abstained  from  the  reckless 
flow  of  words  which  had  been  passing ;  but  now, 
seeing  that  he  was  directly  appealed  to,  her  heart 
leaped,  and  she  riveted  her  eyes  upon  him  with 
mingled  emotions  of  hope  and  fear.  It  was  not 
at  that  moment  a  matter  of  much  difficulty  to 
read  he?r  countenance.  It  seemed  to  ask,  "  And 
am  I,  too,  to  be  compromised  by  my  husband,  as 
my  friends  have  been  by  theirs  ?  "  But  her  sus- 
pense was   of  short  duration. 

"  What  would  I  do  ?  "  slowly  repeated  the  lover 
husband  ;  and  then,  turning  to  meet  the  glance  of 


%- 


©—  (Q) 

THE   HONEYMOON.  267 


his  wife,  he  continued,  "  I  would  go  immediate- 
ly in  search  of  Miss ,"  (repeating  her  maid- 
en name,)  "  offer  to  her  my  heart  and  hand,  be 
blessed  by  receiving  hers  in  return,  and  then  get 
married  as  soon  as  possible. 

This  unexpected  reply,  so  deliberately  and  firm- 
ly expressed,  had  the  effect  to  produce  instant 
silence.  The  satirical  portion  of  the  young  gen- 
tlemen understood  and  appreciated  its  full  force. 
They  were  suddenly  abashed.  It  was  a  contrast 
with  their  own  conduct  too  striking  not  to  have 
its  own  weight.  The  young  wife,  who  was  the 
subject  of  it,  was  so  deeply  affected,  so  filled 
with  gratitude,  that  she  had  been  spared  the  in- 
fliction of  a  pain  she  so  fervently  deprecated,  that 
she  sprang  from  her  seat,  and  fell  upon  his  neck, 
and  with  a  tear  of  joy  glistening  in  her  eye,  said, 
in  a  subdued  tone,  — 

"  My  beloved  husband,  that  answer  is  in  conso- 
nance with  what,  to  me,  you  have  ever  been. 
Would  that  I  were  more  worthy  of  your  most 
devoted  affection." 

"  More  w^orthy,  my  dear  wife,"  he  returned ; 
"  more  worthy  you  cannot  be.  You  are  to  me  a 
jewel  of  inestimable  worth.  Deprived  of  you,  life 
would  be  to  me  but  one  unrelieved  blank." 

He  then  impressed  upon  her  forehead  an  impas- 
sioned kiss,  and  seated  her  gently  beside  him. 

But  the  scene  did  not  end  here.  The  voices  of 
those  who,  a  few  moments  before,  were  loudest 


^ 


268  THE    HONEYMOON. 


in  vain  prattle,  were  now  hushed  in  silence ;  and 
that  silence  needed  to  be  broken  by  some  spirit 
that  could  suggest  a  different  and  more  agreeable 
pastime  than  that  in  which  they  had  just  been  in- 
dulging, but  which  none  now  seemed  disposed  to 
renew.  At  this  crisis,  a  married  sister  of  the  hus- 
band who  had  so  suddenly  changed  the  order  of 
things,  which  she  viewed  with  much  satisfaction, 
noticed,  likewise,  the  kiss,  and  for  the  purpose  of 
putting  an  end  to  the  awkward  intermission,  play- 
fully asked,  directing  attention  to  her  brother,  — 

"  Are  you  not  ashamed  to  be  courting  here  be- 
fore all  the  company  ?  " 

"  The  company,"  he  returned,  with  an  air  of  tri- 
umph which  he  could  not  well  repress,  "  will  please 
excuse  us.  We  did  not  commence  our  regular 
courtship  until  after  marriage^  and  it  is  not  yet 
ended.  We  trust  that  it  may  continue  through 
the  whole  course  of  our  natural  lives,  and  that  we 
may  spend  our  honeymoon  in  heaven." 

This  was  enough.  The  scene  was  indeed 
changed.  The  offending  gentlemen  immediately 
became  fully  convinced  of  the  pernicious  tendency 
of  their  conduct  —  frankly  acknowledged  their 
error — apologized  to  their  wives  —  kissed  them 
all  round,  and  soon  retired  in  perfect  good  humor, 
all  well  pleased  with  the  lesson  they  had  learned, 
and  which  was  perhaps  the  means  of  saving  them 
from  many  after  years  of  discontent,  alienation, 
and  misery. 


^@ 


©: 


:© 


FLORAL   DICTIONARY. 


Acacia  ;  Platonic  or  Chaste  Love. 

Acalea;  Temperance. 

Acanthus ;  The  Arts. 

Achilla  Millefolia ;  War. 

Aconite-leaved  Crowfoot,  or  Fair  Maids  of 

France;  Lustre. 
African  Marigold ;  A''ulgar  Minds. 
■     lus  Castas;    Coldness,   to   live  without 


Agnu 
Lov 


1  a  Stranger. 


©-- 


Agrimony ;  Thankfulness. 

Almond  Tree  ;  Indiscretion,  Heedlessness. 

Almond  Laurel ;  Perfidy. 

Almond  (Flowering)  ;  Hope. 

Aloe;  Grief. 

Althaea  Frutex ;  Persuasion. 

Alyssum  (Sweet)  ;  Worth  beyond  Beauty. 

Amaranth  ;  Immortality. 

Amaryllis ;  Haughtiness,  Pride. 

Ambrosia;  Love  returned. 

American  Cowslip ;  You  are  ray  Divinity. 

American  Elm ;  Patriotism. 

American  Linden ;  Matrimony. 

American  Starwort ;  Welcome  t( 

Anemone ;  Your  Frown  I  defy. 

Anemone  (Garden) ;  Forsaken. 

Angelica ;  Inspiration. 

Angrec  ;  Royalty. 

Apocynum  ;  Falsehood. 

Apple  Blossom  ;    Preference,  Farae   speaks 

him  great  and  good. 
Arbor  vitas  ;  Unchanging  Affection. 
Arum  or  Wake  Robin  ;  Ardor. 
A  Roseleaf ;  I  will  not  trouble  you. 
Asclepias;  Cure  for  the  Heartache. 
Ash;  Gr.indeur. 

Ash-leaved  Trumpet  Flower ;  Separation. 
Aspon  Tree ;  Excessive  Sensil)ility. 
Asjihodel;    My  Regrets  follow  you   to  the 

(irave. 
Auricula;  Painting. 
Auricula  (Scarlet)  ;  Pride. 
Azalea ;  Your  Blush  has  won  rae. 

Bachelor's  Button ;  Celibacy. 
Balm;  Sympathy. 
Balm  of  Gilead ;  Healing,  a  Cure. 
Balm  (Gentle)  ;  Pleasantry. 
Balsamine ;  Impatience. 
Barberry ;  Sharpness,  Soumesg. 
Basil ;  Hatred  of  the  other  Sex. 
Bayberry ;  Sourness  or  Sharpness. 
Bay  Leaf;  I  change  but  in  dying. 
Bay  Wreath ;  Glory. 
Bear's  Breech ;  Art. 
Beech;  Prosperity. 
Bell  Flower ;  Constancy. 
Belvidere  ;  I  declare  against  you. 
Bee  Ophrys ;  Error. 
Betony;  Surprise. 
Bilberry;  Treachery. 
Birch;  Gracefulness. 
Bindweed;  Humility. 


Bird  Cherry ;  Hope. 

Bird's  Foot  Trefoil;  Revenge. 

Bearded  Crepis ;  Protection. 

Black  Poplar ;  Courage. 

Blackthorn ;  Difficulty. 

Bladderuut  Tree ;  Frivolous  Amusements. 

Blue  Blottle  Centaury  ;  Delicacy. 

Blue  Flowered  Greek  Valerian  ;  Rupture. 

Blue  Canterbury  Bell;  Constancy. 

Bonus  Henricus ;  Goodness. 

Borage;  Bluntness  or  Roughness  of  Man- 
ners. 

Box;  Stoicism. 

Bramble  ;  AVeariness. 

Branch  of  Currants ;  You  please  all. 

Branch  of  Thorns;  Severity,  Rigor. 

Broken  Straw ;  Dissension,  Rupture. 

Broom ;  Mirth,  Neatness. 

Bryony;  Prosperity. 

Buckbean  ;  Flattery's  Smile,  Calm  Repose. 

Bud  of  a  White  Rose ;  A  Heart  ignorant  of 
Love. 

Bugloss;  Falsehood. 

Burdock;  Importunity. 

Bundle  of  Reeds  with  their  Panicles ;  Music- 
Buttercup  Kingcup ;  Riches. 

Butterfly  Ophrys ;  Gayety. 

Butterfly  Weed ;  Let  me  go. 

Cabbage;  Profit. 

Calla  (^thiopica) ;  Feminine  Modesty. 

Calycanthus ;  Benevolence. 

Camomile  ;  Energy  in  Adversity. 

Campanula;  Gratitude. 

Canary  Glass ;  Perseverance. 

Candy  Tuft ;  Indiflference. 

Canterbury  Bell  (Blue)  ;  Constancy. 

Cardamine ;  Paternal  Error. 

Carnation ;  Disdain. 

Catesby's  Starwort;  Afterthought. 

Cardinal's  Flower ;  Distinction. 

Catalpa  Tree  ;  Beware  of  the  Coquette. 

Catchfly  ;  Artifice,  or  a  Snare. 

Cedar  of  Lebanon;  Incorruptible. 

Cedar  Tree ;  Strength. 

Checkered  Fritillary ;  Persecution- 
Cherry  Tree ;  Good  Education. 

Cherry  Blossom  ;  Spiritual  Beauty. 

Chestnut  Tree  ;  Do  me  Justice. 

China  Aster,  or  Chinese  Starwort;  Variety. 

China  or  Indian  Pink ;  Aversion. 

China  or  Monthly  Rose  ;  Beauty  ever  new. 

Chinese  Chrysanthemum ;  Cheerfulness  un- 
der Adversity. 

Cinquefoil ;  The  Dead. 

Cistus,  or  Rock  Rose ;  Popular  Favor. 

Circaea;  Fascination. 

Clematis ;  Mental  Beauty. 

Clove  Gillyflower ;  Dignity. 

Cobcea;  Gossip. 

Cockscomb,  or  Crested  Amaranth;  Smgu« 
larity. 


^ 


©= 


=@ 


270 


FLOEAL    mCTIONAEY. 


@= 


Colchicum,  or  Meadow  SaflFron ;   My  best 

Days  are  past. 
Coltsfoot ;  Justice  shall  be  done  you. 
Columbine ;  Folly. 

Common  Cactus,  or  Indian  Fig ;  I  bum. 
Common  Fumitory ;  Spleen. 
Common  Milfoil ;  War. 
Common  Reed;  Complaisance. 
Common  Thistle ;  Importunity. 
Convolvulus  Major;  Extinguished  Hopes. 
Convolvulus  Minor ;  Night. 
Corchorus ;  Impatience  of  Absence. 
Corn ;  Riches. 

Cornelian  Cherry  Tree  ;  Durability. 
Coreopsis;  Always  Cheerful. 
Coriander ;  Concealed  Merit. 
Coronilla ;  Success  crown  your  Wishes. 
Cowslip;  Native  Grace. 
Cranberry  ;  Hardiness. 
Creeping  Cereus ;  Horror. 
Crocus ;  I  am  his. 
Cross  of  Jerusalem;  Devotion. 
Crown  Imperial;  Aristocracy. 
Cuckoo  Pink;  Ardor. 
Cyclamen ;  Diffidence. 
Cypress ;  Disappointed  Hopes. 
Cypress  and  >larigold ;  Despair. 
Cypress  Tree ;  Death  and  eternal  Sorrow. 

Daffodil ;  Deceitful  Hope. 
Dahlia ;  Heartless  Beauty,  Instability. 
Daisy ;  Innocence. 

Daisy    (Garden)  ;    I  partake    your   Senti- 
ments. 
Daisy  (White) ;  I  will  think  of  it 
Damask  Rose ;  Freshness  of  Complexion. 
DanScHon ;  Coquetry. 
Daphne  Odora ;  Sweets  to  the  Sweet. 
Darnel,  or  Ray  Grass ;  Vice. 
Dew  riant ;  A  Serenade. 
Dead  Leaves ;  Sadness. 
Dignity  in  Misfortune ;  Rosebay. 
Dittany;  Birth. 
Dodder;  Baseness. 
Draeon  Plant ;  Snare. 
Drie'ii  Flax ;  Utility. 

Ebony;  Hypocrisy. 

Eclantine  or  Sweetbrier ;  Poetry. 

Elder;  Zealousness. 

Ehn;  Dignity. 

Enchanter's  Nightshade ;  Fascination.Witch- 

craft 
Endive;  Frugality. 
Eupatorium ;  Delay. 
Evergreen;  Poverty  and  Worth. 
Evergreen  Thorn  ;  Solace  in  Adversity. 
Everlasting ;  Always  remembered. 
Everlasting  Pea ;  Lasting  Pleasure. 

Fennel ;  Strength. 
Fei-n  ;  Sincerity. 
Fern  (Flowering)  ;  Revery. 
Fig  ;  Argument. 
Fig  Tree ;  Prolific. 
Filbert  j  Reconciliation. 
Fir;  Time. 
Fir  Tree ;  Elevation. 
Flax ;  Domestic  Industry. 
Flax-leaved  Goldy  Locks  ;  Tardiness. 
Flora's  Bell ;  You  are  without  Pretension. 
FIowcr-de-Luce  j  I  am  burning  with  Love. 
Flower  of  an  Hour ;  Delicate  Beauty. 
Flowering  Reed  :  Confidence  in  Heaven. 
Forget-me-not ;  True  Love. 
Fairy's  Glove,  or  Foxglove  ;  Ambition,  I  am 
not  changed—  they  wrong  me. 


Frankincense;   The  Incense  of  a  faithfhl 

Heart. 
Fraxinella;  Fire. 

French  Honeysuckle  ;  Rustic  Beauty. 
French  Marigold ;  Jealousy. 
Frog  Ophrys ;  Disgust 
Full-blown  Eglantine  ;  Simplicity. 
Fullers'  Teasel ;  Austerity. 

Garden  Chervil ;  Sincerity. 
Garden  Marigold  ;  Uneasiness. 
Garden  Ranunculus;  You  are  rich  in  At- 
tractions. 
Garden  Sage ;  Esteem. 
Garland  of  Roses  ;  Reward  of  Virtue. 
Geutiana  Fritillaria ;  Virgin  Pride. 
Geranium;  Gentility. 
Geranium  (Dark)  ;  Despondency. 
Geranium  (Rose) ;  Preference. 
Geranium  (Scarlet) ;  Consolation. 
Geranium  (Silver-leafed)  ;  Recall. 
Geranium  (Sorrowful) ;  Melancholy  Spirit. 
Gillyflower ;  Lasting  Beauty. 
Glory  Flower:  Glorious  Beauty. 
Goat's  Rue ;  Reason. 
Golden  Rod;  Precaution. 
Gorse ;  Cheerfulness  in  Adversity. 
Goosefoot;  Goodness. 
Grape  (Wild) ;  Charity. 
Grass;  Utility. 

Great  Bindweed ;  Dangerous  Insinuation. 
Guelder  Rose ;  Winter,  or  Age. 

Harebell ;  Delicate  and  lonely  as  this  Flower. 

Ilawkweed  :  Quicksightedness. 

Hawthorn ;  Hope. 

Hazel ;  Reconciliation. 

Heath;  Solitude. 

Helen  ia ;  Tears. 

Heliotrope ;  Devotion. 

Hellebore;  Calumny. 

Hemlock ;  You  will  cause  my  Death. 

Henbane  ;  Imperfection. 

Ilepatica  ;  Confidence. 

Hibiscus ;  Short-lived  Beauty. 

Hickory;  Glory. 

Hoarhound ;  Frozen  Kindness. 

Holly  ;  Foresight. 

Hollyhock  ;  Fecundity. 

Honeysuckle ;  Fidelity. 

Honeysuckle  (Wild)  ;  Inconstancy. 

Hop  ;  Injustice. 

Hornbeam ;  Ornament. 

Horse  Chestnut ;  Luxury. 

Hortensia ;  You  are  cold. 

Houstonia;  Content 

Hoya;  Sculpture. 

Hundred-leaved  Rose ;  Graces. 

Hyacinth  ;  Grief. 

Hydrangea ;  Heartlessness. 

Iceland  Moss ;  Health. 

Ice  Plant ;  Frirfdity. 

Indian  Cress ;  Resignation. 

Indian  Jasmine  ;  I  attach  myself  to  you. 

Iris ;  Message. 

Ivy;  Friendship. 

Jacob's  Ladder ;  Come  down  to  me. 

Japan  Rose  ;  Beauty  is  your  only  Attraction. 

Japonica  ;  Excellence. 

Jessamine,  or  Jasmine  ;  Amiability. 

Jessamine  (Virginian) ;  Soul  of  my  Soul. 

Jonquil ;  Is  my  Affection  returned  ? 

Judas  Tree  ;  Unbelief. 

Juniper;  Protection. 

Justitia ;  Perfection  of  Female  Loveliness. 


:@ 


@: 


:© 


FLORAL    DICTIONARY. 


271 


i 


Kennedia ;  Mental  Beauty. 
Kingcup ;  I  wish  I  was  rich. 

Laburnum ;  Pensiveness. 

Ladies'  Delight  j  Forget  me  not 

Lady's  Slipper;  Capnciousness. 

Larch;  Boldness. 

Larkspur ;  Fickleness. 

Laurel ;  Fame. 

Laurustinus  ;  I  die  if  neglected. 

Lavender:  Acknowledgment. 

Lemon;  Zest. 

Lettuce;  Ooldhearted. 

Lichen  ;  Solitude. 

Lilac;  First  Emotions  of  Love. 

Lilac  (White)  ;  Youth. 

Lily  of  the  ValleVj;  Unwoticed  Affection. 

Lime  or  Linden  Tree ;  Conjugal  Love. 

Live  Oak :  Liberty. 

Lobelia;  Splendor. 

Locust ;  Affection  beyond  the  Grave. 

London  Pride ;  Frivolity. 

Lotus;  Estrangement. 

Love  in  a  Mist ;  Perplexity. 

Love  in  a  Puzzle ;  Embarrassment. 

Love  Lies  Bleeding ;  Hopeless,  not  heartless. 

Lucem ;  Life. 

Lupine;  Voraciousness. 

Lychnis ;  Religious  Enthusiasm. 

LytUrum ;  Pretension. 

Madder;  Calumny. 

Madwort  (Rock) ;  Tranquillity. 

Maidenhair ;  Discretion,  Secrecy. 

Maize;   Plenty. 

Magnolia:  Peerless  and  proud. 

Mallow  ;  Mild  or  sweet  Disposition. 

Manchineel  Tree ;  Falsehood. 

Mandrake;  Rarity. 

Maple;  Reserve. 

Marjoram;   Blushes. 

Marshmallow ;  Humanity. 

Marvel  of  Peru ;  Timidity. 

Marigold ;  Inquietude. 

Maritrold  (Small  Cape) ;  Presage. 

May  Rose ;  Precocity. 

Meadow  Saffron  ;  My  best  Days  are  past. 

Meadowsweet ;  Uselessness. 

Mercury ;  Goodness. 

Mesembryanthemum ;  Idleness. 

Mezereon  ;  Love  in  a  Snow  Wreath. 

Michaelmas  Daisy ;  Farewell. 

Mignonette ;  Moral  Worth. 

Milk  Vetch  ;  Your  Presence  softens  myPain. 

Mimosa;  Sensitiveness. 

Mint;  Virtue. 

Mistletoe ;  Not  discouraged. 

Mock  Orange ;  Counterfeit 

Monk's  Hood  ;  Knight  Errantry. 

Moonwort ;  Forgetfulness. 

Moschatel ;  Weak,  but  winning. 

Moss ;  Maternal  Affection. 

Moss  Rose  ;  Pleasure  without  alloy. 

Mossy  Saxifrage ;  Maternal  Love. 

Motherwort ;  Secret  Love. 

Mountain  Ash ;  Prudence. 

Mouse  Ear  Chickweed;  Ingenious  Simpli- 

Moving  I'lant ;  Agitation.  [city. 

Mulberry  Tree  (White)  ;  Wisdom. 

Mulberry  Tree  (Black) ;  I  will  not  survive 

you. 
Mushroom;  Suspicion. 
Musk  Crowfoot ;  Weakness. 
Musk  Rose ;  Capricious  Beauty. 
Myosotis,  or  Mouse  Ear ;  Forget  me  not 
Myrobalan;  Privation. 
Myrtle ;  Love  in  Absence. 


Narcissus  (False) ;  Delusive  Hope. 

Narcissus  (Poet's)  ;  Egotism,  or  Self-love. 

Nasturtium;  Patriotism. 

Nettle ;  Cruelty. 

Night-Blowing  Cereus ;  Transient  Beauty. 

Nightshade ;  Dark  Thoughts. 

Nosegay;  Gallantry. 

Oak  ;  Hospitality. 

Oats ;  The  witching  Soul  of  Music  hers. 

Oleander  ;  Warning,  or  Beware. 

Olive ;  Peace. 

Orchis ;  A  Belle. 

Orange  Flowers ;  Chastity. 

Orange  Tree  ;  Generosity. 

Osier ;  Frankness. 

Oxeye;  Patience. 

Palm;  Victory. 

Pansy,  or  Heart's  Ease ;  Think  of  me. 

Parsley  ;  Entertainment,  Feasting. 

Passion  Flower;  Religious  Superstition. 

Patience  Dock ;  Patience. 

Pasque  Flower ;  You  are  without  Pretension. 

Pea ;  An  appointed  Meeting. 

Pea  (Everlasting) ;  Wilt  thou  go  ? 

Pea  (Sweet) ;  Departure. 

Peach  Blossom  ;  I  am  your  Captive. 

Pennyroyal ;  Flee  away. 

Peony ;  Bashful  Shame. 

Pepper  Plant ;  Satire. 


Periwinkle;  Early  Friendship. 
Persimmon  ;  Bury  me  amid  Nature'i 


Beau- 

[ties. 


Persicaria ;  Restoration. 
Peruvian  Heliotrope  ;  I  trust  in  thee. 
Petunia  ;  Elegance  without  Pride. 
Pheasant's  Eye,  or  Flos  Adonis  ;    Sorrowful 

Remembrances. 
Phlox  ;  Our  Souls  are  united. 
Pimpernel;  Assignation. 
Pine;  Pity. 

Pineapple ;  You  are  perfect 
Pink ;  Lovely  and  pure  Affection. 
Pink,  (China) ;  Aversion. 
Pink  (Red) ;  Woman's  Love. 
Pink  (White)  ;  Fair  and  fascinating. 
Plane  Tree ;  Genius. 
Plum  Tree ;  Keep  your  Promises. 
Plum  Tree  (Wild) ;  Independence. 
Polyanthus ;  Confidence. 
Pofrito ;  Beneficence. 
Pomegranate  ;  Foolishness. 
Poppy  (Red)  ;  Evanescence. 
Poppy  (White) ;  Oblivion  in  Sleep. 
Prickly  Pear ;  Satire. 
Pride  of  China ;  Discussion. 
Primrose ;  Modest  Worth. 
Primrose  (Evening) ;  Inconstancy. 
Privet;  Prohibition. 
Purple  Clover ;  Provident. 
Pyramidal  Bell  Flower ;  Gratitude. 
I^rus  Japonica ;  Fairies'  Fire. 

Quamoclet;  Busybody. 
Queen's  Rocket;  You  s 
quettes. 

Ragged  Robin ;  Wit 

Ranunculus ;  You  are  radiant  with  Charms.^ 

Red  Bay  ;  Love's  Memory. 

Red  Mulberry ;  Wisdom. 

Red  Shanks ;  Patience. 

Rest  Harrow ;  Obstacle. 

Rhododendron ;  Danger. 

Rocket;  Rivalry. 

Rose;  Beauty. 

Rose  (Burgundy) ;  Simplicity. 


I  the  Queen  of  Co- 


-4> 


@-- 


272 


FLORAL    DICTIONARY. 


^ 


Rose  (Acacia) ;  Elegance. 

Rose  (Bridal) ;  Happy  Love. 

Rose  (Carolina) ;  Love  is  dangerous. 

Rose  (Multiflora) ;  Grace. 

Rose  (Versicolor)  ;  Mirthfulness. 

Rose  (Musk) ;  Charming. 

Rose  (Moss)  ;  Superior  Merit. 

Rose  (Yellow) ;  We  -mil  be  Strangers. 

Rosebud  (Moss) ;  Confession  of  Love. 

Rosebud  (White)  ;  Too  young  to  love. 

Rosebud ;  Youthful  Charms. 

Roses  (A  Garland  of) ;  Reward  of  Virtue. 

Rosebay  Willow  Herb ;  Celibacy. 

Rooe  Campion ;  You  are  without  Pretension. 

Rosemary ;  Affectionate  Remembrance. 

Rose-scented  Geranium;  Preference. 

Rudbeckia ;  Justice. 

Rue  ;  Grace,  or  Purification. 

Rush;  Docility. 

Saffron ;  Marriase. 

Saffron  Flower ;  "Excess  is  dangerous. 

Saffron  Crocus ;  Mirth. 

Sage ;  Esteem. 

Sardony;  Irony. 

Scabius ;  Unfortunate  Attachment. 

Scarlet  Fuchsia ;  Taste. 

Scarlet  Ipomaea,  or  Indian  Jasmine ;  I  at- 
tach myself  to  you. 

Scotch  Fir ;  Elevation. 

Sensitive  Plant ;  Timidity. 

Serpentine  Cactus;  Horror. 

Service  Tree ;  Prudence. 

Shaking  Sainfoin ;  A^tation. 

Siberian  Crab  Tree  Blossom ;  Deeply  inter- 
esting. 

Sidesaddle  Flower;  Will  you  pledge  me  ? 

Silver  Fir;  Elevation. 

Small  Bindweed;  Obstinacy. 

Small  White  Violet ;  Candor  and  Innocence. 

Snapdragon ;  Dazzling,  but  dangerous. 

Snowball ;  Thoughts  of  Heaven. 

Snowdrop ;  Hope  in  Sorrow. 

Sorrel ;  Wit  ill  timed 

Southernwood ;  Jest,  or  Bantering. 

Spanish  Jasmine ;  Sensuality. 

Spider  Ophrys  ;  Skill,  Adroitness. 

Spiderwort ;  Transient  Hapjjiness. 

Spindle  Tree ;  Your  image  is  engraven  on 
my  Heart 

Spiked  Speedwell ;  Resemblance. 

Spirae  Hypericum  Frutex  ;  Uselessness. 

Squirting  Cucumber ;  Critic. 

St.  John^  Wort ;  Superstitious  Sanctity. 

Star  of  Bethlehem ;  Reconciliation. 

Stock  or  Gilly  Flower ;  Lasting  Beauty. 

Stramonium  (Common) ;  Disguise. 

Strawberry ;  Perfect  Excellence. 

Striped  Pink ;  Refusal. 

Sumach;  Splendor. 

Sunflower ;  Smile  on  me  still. 

Swallow  wort  5  Medicine. 

Sweet  Brier,  or  Eglantine ;  Poetry. 

Sweet  Flag  j  Fitness. 

Sweet  Pea ;  Delicate  Pleasure. 

Sweet  Soltan ;  Felicity. 

Sweet-scented  Tussilage ;  You  shall  have 
Justice. 

Sweet  Violet ;  Modesty. 

Sweet  William ;  HoUowncss,  or  Treachery. 

Sycamore ;  Woodland  Beauty. 

^nringa;  Memory. 

Tamarisk;  Crime. 
Tansy;  Courage. 
Teasel;  Misanthropy. 


Ten  Weeks'  Stock ;  Prompitude. 

Thistle  ;  Never  forget. 

Thorn  Apple ;  Deceitful  Charms. 

Thrift;  Sympathy. 

Throatwort ;  Neglected  Beauty. 

Thyme;  Activity. 

Tremella  Nostoc  ;  Resolve  the  Mddle. 

Truffle;  Surprise. 

Tiger  Flower ;  For  once  may  Pride  befriend 

me. 
Tree  of  Life;  Old  Age. 
Tuft  of  Moss ;  Maternal  Love. 
Tulip ;  Beautiful  Eyes. 
Tulip  (Red) ;  Declaiation  of  Love. 
Turnip;  Charity. 

Valerian  (Red) ;  Accommodating  Disposi- 
tion. 

Various-colored  Lantana;  Rigor. 

Verbena ;  Sensibility. 

Vernal  Grass ;  Poor,  but  happy. 

Vervain;  Enchantngent. 

Venus's  Car ;  Fly  \«th  me. 

Venus's  Flytrap  ;  ifcve  I  caught  you  nt  last? 

Venus's  Looking  CMss  |  Flattery,  or  Vanity. 

Vine ;  Intoxication. 

Violet  (Blue)  ;  Faithfulness. 

Violet  (White)  ;  Modesty. 

Virgin's  Bower ;  Artifice. 

Virginian  Spiderw^ort ;  Momentary  Happi- 
ness. 

Volkamenica  Japonica;  May  you  be  happy. 

Wall  Flower  ;  Fidelity  in  Misfortune. 

Wall  Speedwell ;  Fidelity. 

Water  Lilv  ;  Eloquence. 

Walnut  (Black)  ;  Intellect. 

Walking  Leaf ;  How  came  you  here  ? 

Watermelon ;  Bulkiness. 

Water  Star ;  Beauty  combined  with  Piety. 

Wax  Plant ;  Susceptibility. 

Wax  Myrtle  ;  I  will  enlighten  you. 

Weeping  Willow  ;  Forsaken  Lover. 

Wheat;  Riches. 

White  Jasmine ;  Amiableness. 

White  Lilac;  Youth. 

White  Lily  ;  Purity  and  Modesty. 

White  Mullein  ;  Good  Nature. 

White  Oak ;  Independence. 

White  Pink ;  Talent. 

White  Poplar ;  Time. 

White  Poppy  ;  Sleep  of  the  Heart. 

White  Rose ;  Silence. 

White  Rose   (Dried)  ;    Death   preferable   to 

Loss  of  Innocence. 
White  Rosebud ;  The  Heart  that  knows  not 

Love. 
White  Violet ;  Candor. 
Wild  or  Dog  Rose ;  Simplicity. 
Willow ;  Forsaken. 
Willow  Herb ;  Pretension. 
Winter  Cherry ;  Deception. 
Witch  Hazel ;  A  Spell. 
Wood  Sorrel ;  Joy. 
Woodbine ;  Fraternal  Lore. 
Wormwood;  Absence. 

Yarrow ;  Cure  for  the  Heartache. 
Yellow  Carnation ;  Disdain. 
Yellow  Day  Lily ;  Coquetry. 
Yellow  Gentian ;  Ingratitude. 
Yellow  Iris ;  Flame. 
Yellow  Rose ;  Infidelity. 
Yew;  Sorrow. 

Zinnia;  Absence. 


(^ 


^ 


14  DAY  USE 

RN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

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on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

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